Digital Revelation
by Apapazukamori
Summary: Coming home from work one evening, Fuuma finds something he's always wanted lying in the trash... Chobits fusion. BL.
1. Kamui Awakens

**Digital Revelation**

Chapter One: Kamui Awakens 

"I'm leaving now!" 

"Good work today!" 

Monou Fuuma closed the door to the restaurant, checking to make sure it locked behind him. Shouldering his backpack, he loosened his tie and headed for the train station. "Got a lot done today," he said to himself, stretching his arms up above his head, not noticing the appreciative stares he was generating. "Work was so slow tonight, but at least I made some good money." Fuuma continued walking, heedless of the now odd looks he received as he continued to talk to himself at normal volume. 

Rounding the corner to the train station, he passed an extremely familiar window containing a row of what looked like mannequins with funny ears. Of course, they appeared that way to the untrained or uneducated eye, and Fuuma was certainly neither of those. He knew what they were, and -really- wanted one. He stopped and gazed into the window, eyes gaining a glassed-over look. "Man, if I had a persocon, life would be so much easier..." His lament fell upon the deaf ears of the robots in the window, their empty eyes stared at him without pity. Dejected, he turned from the storefront and continued on to the station. "Mine'd do all the housework, and it'd cook..." he sighed loudly, punching a fist into his other hand. "Dammit!! Someday, I'll get one! JUST WATCH ME!" 

A silence fell around him and Fuuma finally noticed just how many people were staring at him. Laughing weakly, he darted out onto the platform and squeezed into the first train that arrived. //Damn, I really need to stop doing that. People are going to think I'm weird.// After the brief admonishment, he went back to thinking about the persocons in the window. And the one sitting next to him on the train, as well as the one sitting across the aisle, and the one standing over there... 

He had to be the only person alive who didn't own one of the human-shaped computers. At school, all of his friends had palm-sized mobile units at the very least. They took notes, kept track of schedules and homework; he even knew a few people who'd programmed their persocons to play video games when the teacher wasn't looking. The possibilities were endless; the only problem was they were so expensive that Fuuma probably wouldn't own one until he was out of college. 

An overhead speaker announced the arrival at his stop, and Fuuma filed out of the train car with the dozen or so others who got off, still lost in thought. He was halfway home when he remembered that his sister had asked him to pick up some groceries. "This sucks." He turned on his heel and walked back the way he'd come, stopping at the first convenience store he happened upon, which was three streets over and about seven or eight blocks down. 

As the cashier rang up his purchase and heated the meager instant dinner he'd grabbed for himself, Fuuma flipped through one of the magazines by the register, careful to hold the telephone book-sized issue just so, so people wouldn't be able to see the pages of barely clothed girls that had captured his attention. 

"Thank you for waiting!" 

Startled, Fuuma fumbled with the magazine, shoving it back in its place in the rack and took the plastic bags from the girl behind the counter. He mumbled a "thank you" and hustled out of the store. Once outside, he smacked his palm against his forehead and groaned. "Good one, Fuuma. Now she probably thinks you're some kind of pervert." He stuffed the bag of groceries into his backpack and headed home, taking a shortcut through an unfamiliar neighborhood. "Too bad, she was cute." 

A streetlamp flickered as he walked under it, going dark just long enough for Fuuma to trip over something in his path. Once the light came back on, he yelped and stumbled backward. 

A person lay in the pile of trash bags stacked underneath the streetlight. Upon slightly closer examination, Fuuma determined it was a boy, loosely wrapped in strips of cloth, and that he didn't seem to be breathing. "Hey," Fuuma called, poking the boy with a stick. He received no response. Moving closer, he poked the boy again. "Hey!" He repeated, louder this time. "Are you all right?" When the boy didn't answer again, Fuuma felt a panic begin to rise. He'd found a dead body in the street! The killer could still be around, oh god, -this- was why he never took the shortcut home. "Kotori, I'm sorry I couldn't bring home the groceries!" He moaned. "But it's kind of hard when you're dead--" He broke off his own eulogy when he caught sight of something he hadn't noticed before. 

Poking out of the boy's raven black hair were a pair of funny looking, white ears. Fuuma blinked, then took a step closer and prodded at them. They seemed to be made of a hard plastic, seamlessly connected to the boy's pale skin where normal ears would be on a human being. "A persocon?" He mused, instantly relieved. No thugs here, his life was safe for the time being. A slow elation began to build as he considered his find. The persocon was in the trash, meaning someone had thrown it out. Which technically meant that it was free for the taking... 

Grinning from ear to ear, Fuuma slipped his arms under the still body -- it felt so lifelike! -- and picked it up, immediately stumbling under the weight. "For such a small thing, you weigh a ton, you know." He said to it, taking one labored step after another. "But that means you've gotta be worth it." He would not be dissuaded, simply because of a little problem of not being able to carry the persocon. This was a dream come true. He -finally- had a persocon of his very own! 

About a half hour later, after a hasty greeting to his sister and father, who were watching television in the main room and still safely out of sight, Fuuma set the still-inert persocon on the floor of his room and then collapsed onto his bed, lungs burning as he tried to catch his breath. Physically weakened as he was, his enthusiasm failed to be dampened. Sitting up, he looked over his new acquisition. The gender design was obviously male, and its frame was -small-. Standing, the persocon would probably only reach his chest, if that. Fuuma briefly wondered why the thing didn't have any clothing on besides several cloth strips wrapped tightly around it, but shrugged it off as he searched for a way to turn it on. 

An hour later, he sagged against the wall, grinding his teeth in frustration. "How the hell do you make it work?!" He'd checked everywhere; on the ears, all over its face, under the arms, behind the knees, on the toes and fingers, and he'd come up with absolutely no success. He scanned the persocon's body, grumbling about it being defective… 

… until his eyes came to rest on a place he hadn't tried. "You have GOT to be kidding me!" Fuuma half-shouted, face already turning a bright red at the mere possibility of the switch being somewhere under the cloth covering the persocon's groin. "This is sick, I mean really! What kind of person comes up with this stuff?" He sat against the wall for another few minutes, attempting to come to terms with what was quickly becoming the only answer. 

Swallowing audibly, he knelt beside the still body and set one hand on the persocon's stomach. "Come on, Fuuma." He began the pep talk in a shaky voice. "You want a persocon, right? This is just part of the package… I mean, it's not that hard right? You've seen other guys in the locker room, this isn't any different… well, it is, but don't think about it that way…" 

His hand moved lower, trembling noticeably. Clenching it into a fist, Fuuma took a deep breath. "Just pretend it's a girl… wait, that's stupid. Girls definitely don't have -that.-" 

Berating himself for being so squeamish, he looked at the persocon's emotionless face. He wondered what color eyes it had, as he ran the back of his other hand down its cheek. It looked so real, it was faintly disturbing, especially in light of what he had to do to activate it. Biting his lip, he leaned close to the still face. "I'm not trying to be weird or anything." He said softly, closing his eyes. "So, ah… sorry." 

Before he could think better of it, he slipped his hand under the cloth, wrapped his fingers around what he was looking for and quickly pulled. 

The result was instantaneous, the persocon's eyes opened, revealing pupiless violet irises. Lifted by an unseen hand, the persocon floated off the ground, the cloth falling away, releasing its arms and legs. Fuuma watched, mouth open in awe, as it settled back down on the floor; he wondered if his friends' persocons had done the same when they'd been activated. 

The persocon raised its head and stared at him. Fuuma coughed, trying to figure out what was appropriate to say. "Ah, hi." Wide violet eyes merely blinked once in response. Frowning, Fuuma tried again. "Can you talk? What's your name?" 

The persocon touched a finger to slightly parted lips, expression pensive. It tilted its head, looking at him curiously. Fuuma raked a hand through his hair, trying to figure out what to do. Maybe there was something he was forgetting; after all, he'd never owned a persocon before. The persocon sat motionless while Fuuma poked around it, fingering the plastic ears. He grinned with delight when one of them opened to reveal a handful of cords, one of which he recognized as having an audio/visual jack on the end. //Finally, something I recognize.// 

He pulled the cord out and hooked it up to his much-neglected television. He'd never been a TV person, but between his job, soccer practice and school, it was a wonder he remembered how to turn it on. Instantly, the screen lit up, and a cursor appeared, blinking expectantly. "Great!" Fuuma cheered, rubbing his hands together as he turned to the persocon. "Okay, so… boot up. Or whatever it is you do." 

A flicker passed through the violet eyes, and the persocon's face slackened. Fuuma looked at the screen as a word appeared, blinking quickly. "Kamui?" Fuuma read aloud, puzzled. What on earth did that mean? "What's 'Kamui'?" 

"Kamui." 

Fuuma peered at the persocon's blank expression critically. "Hey, you can talk!" He smiled. "Is that your name?" He pointed at it, as if to illustrate his point. 

A semblance of cognizance returned to its eyes and face. It raised a hand and placed it on its chest. "Kamui." 

Fuuma beamed. "Nice to meet you, Kamui!" He looked back at the still-blinking name on the screen. "Wow, this is neat---okay, let's see what you can do. Bring up your program list, okay?" 

Another flicker passed through the eyes and the screen changed. Fuuma frowned as the words 'NO DATA' appeared in bright red text. "I don't get it. What does that mean, 'no data'?" A flash of horror coursed through him. "Does that mean I have to -buy- software for you?! Man, and I thought I'd gotten off easy." He unplugged the cord and replaced it inside Kamui's ear. Upon being disconnected from the television, Kamui watched Fuuma with an expectant, curious gaze. 

"Maybe you're broken." Fuuma said with a sigh, patting him on the head. "That's why you were in the trash." 

Kamui's reaction to his offhand comment was instant and unexpected. A small hand shot out and gripped his sleeve tightly, face pinched with fear. Taken aback, Fuuma waved his hands, shaking his head quickly. "Don't worry! I'm not going to get rid of you." He ruffled Kamui's hair and smiled. "I've always wanted a persocon; we'll figure out how to make you work, okay?" 

Fuuma felt his chest tighten ever so slightly as Kamui beamed at him. //He's really cute… maybe this won't be so bad.// A second later, he was flat on his back, Kamui sprawled out on top of him and hugging him tightly. Fuuma became quickly aware of the fact that his new persocon was not wearing anything. Blushing furiously, he covered his eyes with one hand. "Before we do anything, Kamui, we need to get you some clothes." 


	2. Kamui Gets Dressed

**Digital Revelation**

Chapter Two: Kamui Gets Dressed 

Alarm clock set, check. Clothes ready for tomorrow, check. Fuuma had said his good nights, which would keep Kotori and his father from venturing into his room for the remainder of the night. He felt Kamui's gaze on him as he walked around the room. The persocon was currently wearing one of Fuuma's old t-shirts, and the bottom hem fell to his knees, making it look more like a dress than a shirt. Somehow, he'd have to get Kamui some decent clothes, but not until he'd worked out the software problem that seemed to be part of the "free persocon" deal. 

Fuuma turned to Kamui, who was comfortably seated cross-legged on the floor, and smiled. "Well, I think it's time for bed." 

Kamui tilted his head in a gesture of curiosity that was rapidly becoming familiar. "Bed?" 

Nodding, Fuuma turned down the covers. "Yeah, bed. Where you sleep. You do sleep, don't you?" 

The persocon pulled his knees up underneath the tent like t-shirt, resting his arms on them and touching a finger to his lips, thinking. "Kamui not know." 

Fuuma sat on the edge of the bed, studying Kamui for a moment. Since the activation, he'd managed to teach Kamui a basic working vocabulary, however the concept of articles and linking verbs still eluded him. Not that it was any great problem, it was actually rather cute; almost everything about the persocon was, in fact. Fuuma had never known a boy that looked as feminine as Kamui's design, but it was still not enough to be girlish. Did it make sense? Probably not, but it wasn't something Fuuma was going to waste time dwelling on. He wanted to teach Kamui a few more things before he made his discovery known to the rest of the family. He wondered if Kamui knew anything about cooking. 

Whether he did or didn't, Fuuma decided that was a matter better left until tomorrow. Better to tackle the current problem: it was nearly two am and Kamui had no idea if he had to sleep. "Well, I'm sure you do." Fuuma began, half thinking aloud. "I mean, you've gotta recharge somehow, right? That's how humans do it, anyway." 

Kamui blinked up at him. "Kamui sleep?" 

Fuuma nodded. "Yeah, you just lay down, close your eyes and sleep. Pretty easy." 

Kamui considered this a moment, then hesitantly lay down on the floor. After a moment, he closed his eyes. The crease in his forehead remained, however, indicating that he was still unsure of what exactly was supposed to happen. Fuuma sighed. "Kamui, you don't have to sleep on the floor. You can sleep in a bed." 

Keeping his eyes closed, Kamui frowned. "Bed?" 

"Never mind." Fuuma replied, giving up for the night. He'd deal with it all in the morning. "It's just that's what most people do." He slipped underneath the covers and turned off the light, burying deep under the blankets so that only the top of his head was visible. "Good night, Kamui." 

"Good night?" The persocon's soft voice echoed. 

"Yeah, you say it before you go to sleep." Fuuma replied, stifling a yawn. He was just beginning to drift off when he felt a slight shift beside him on the mattress. Kamui shifted a few times before finally going still. 

"Good night." 

The alarm clock's buzzer went off at seven a.m. on the dot, startling both of them out of a sound sleep. Fuuma groaned, rubbing his eyes, and swearing up and down that it couldn't possibly be as early as it seemed. He rolled out of bed and shut the noise off, noticing for the first time that Kamui was sitting straight up on the bed, eyes wide and glancing every which way like a frightened kitten. 

Fuuma peered down into his face and patted his hair. "It's okay, Kamui. It's just the alarm clock. It won't hurt you, it just wakes you up in the morning." 

Kamui's shaking stilled almost instantly at his touch. "Good night!" He chirped, giving him a wide smile. 

Laughing, Fuuma shook his head. "Nice try, but when you wake up, you say 'good morning.' " 

"Good morning." 

"Right." 

"Good morning!" 

//He's going to give me cavities.// Fuuma mused as he gathered his shower supplies. He needed to get in and out of the bathroom before Kotori woke and began poking around. He turned to Kamui. "Stay here, okay? And don't say anything." He put a finger to his lips and made a shushing sound. "Quiet, okay?" 

Kamui nodded. "Quiet." 

Locking himself into the bathroom, Fuuma allowed himself a moment to relax. Kamui was a handful, there was no doubt about that. What had he gotten himself into? Turning on the water and stepping into the stall, Fuuma decided that the sooner he got a hold of some software for the persocon, the better. 

When he returned to the bedroom, Kamui was nowhere to be seen. He cursed several times out loud, only to have the same words echoed back a moment later. Blinking, he ventured slowly around the room. "Kamui?" 

"Kamui!" 

The response came from the other side of the bed. Fuuma rubbed the back of his neck, sighing. "Kamui, you shouldn't hide like that." He admonished as he circled the bed. "You'll make me think you wandered off-oh my god!!" 

The persocon lay sprawled out on his back on the floor, knees drawn up and legs spread, with one of Fuuma's magazines laying open by his shoulder. Kamui had managed to copy the girl's pose almost exactly, and with his t-shirt pulled up over his hips, it left nothing to the imagination. 

As fast as he could, Fuuma turned around, eyes squeezed tightly shut and a painful sensation growing between his legs. Grinding his teeth, Fuuma reached behind him and fumbled around for the magazine. When he managed to find it, he twisted it up and turned back around. Kamui had moved to a kneeling position, looking up at him in confusion. 

For a moment, Fuuma couldn't speak. Between his embarrassment and raging hormones, his voice caught in his throat. For his part, Kamui waited patiently, guileless, his innocent eyes staring into Fuuma's. "Ka… mui," Fuuma began, mouth dry and face burning. "Don't do that again, okay?" The words tumbled out in a rush. "This stuff is bad for you." More like it was bad for -him-, seeing that he owned a none-too-tiny pornography collection -and- the copycat from Hell. 

Kamui processed this, then pointed at him. "You read?" 

Fuuma coughed, uncomfortable. "Ah, well… it's bad for me too." 

A knock on the door sent Fuuma flinging the magazine into the closet and attempting to calm his rapidly beating heart. "Yes?" 

"Fuuma, breakfast is ready." 

Fighting the urge to laugh like a maniac, Fuuma managed a strangled reply. "Right, Father. I'll be right down." He sank down onto the bed, holding his head in his hands. What a morning. And it wasn't even time for school yet. 

"Fuuma?" 

He lifted his head and looked over his shoulder at Kamui. "What?" 

The persocon pointed to him. "Fuuma?" 

Quickly catching on to what Kamui wanted to know, Fuuma nodded. "That's right. I'm Fuuma." Somehow in the confusion of the previous evening, that introduction had been left out. "I'm Fuuma, and I have to get dressed and down to breakfast before Kotori leaves without me." He stood quickly and slipped on the clothes he'd laid out the night before. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Kamui copying his actions, pulling on invisible pants and buttoning a uniform coat that didn't exist. The image made him laugh, Kamui was nothing if not a quick study. 

Once dressed, Fuuma took Kamui by the hand and pulled him over to sit on the bed. "Now, Kamui, I have to go to scho-I have to go away for a while." It was probably not the best time to attempt to explain school. He reached over and took the alarm clock from the dresser, watching Kamui's eyes narrow at the sight of it. "I'm going to set this for four o'clock." He told Kamui, showing the persocon exactly what he was doing. "I'll be back when this makes noise, okay? I'll be back to turn if off." 

Kamui looked up at him. "Fuuma stops the noise?" 

Fuuma nodded, smoothing the persocon's hair back from his face. "That's right. I'll turn it off when I get back." He looked into Kamui's eyes, making sure he had his attention. "Until I get back, you stay -right here.- Do you understand?" 

"Stay right here." Kamui echoed, nodding. "Kamui stay right here." 

"Good. I'll see you later." Fuuma stood, heading out the door. 

"Good morning, Fuuma!" 

Fuuma turned around, looking at Kamui smiling at him from across the room. "I'll be back soon!" He said, waving a little before running downstairs. 


	3. Kamui Knows How to Clean

**Digital Revelation**

Chapter Three: Kamui Knows How to Clean 

"Man, I think someone replaced you with your not-so-evil twin." 

Rubbing his eyes, Fuuma turned in his desk chair to face Arisugawa Sorata. His classmate regarded him with a strange expression. "What're you talking about?" Fuuma mumbled in reply, stifling a yawn behind his hand. Less than five hours of sleep in a night definitely didn't agree with him. Luckily, the day was almost over; the class milled around the room, waiting for the last bell and the dismissal from the teacher. 

Sorata pointed at him. "There! That's what I'm talkin' about!" The transfer student from Osaka wagged his finger in Fuuma's face. "You were late this morning, you're fallin' asleep in class, you didn't do your homework, and you're totally zoned." 

Fuuma shrugged. One missed assignment wouldn't kill him, and lessons had been boring. Anyone would have dozed off had they been in his shoes. "Sorry, I was up late." 

Sorata's eyebrows shot straight up. "Oh -really-?" He asked, a grin pulling at his face. Fuuma rolled his eyes. If anyone was more into sex than he, it was his friend. At least he knew who to blame if anyone asked. "How late and who with?" 

"Actually, not 'who', it's more like 'what'." He coughed into his fist, bracing himself for the exact reaction he got. Sorata flopped down into his seat, a look of irritation on his face. 

"Man, we have to get you a real girl… otherwise you're gonna go blind." 

Despite preparation, Fuuma choked, turning red. "NO!" He snapped, glancing around to make sure no one had heard Sorata's big mouth. "I got a persocon last night after work." 

"Really?" Sorata cried, sitting up straight. "Cool! You said you'd never be able to afford one." Grinning, he clapped Fuuma on the back. "Did you get one of the used models? If you go to the right place, they're usually bug-free." 

"I don't know if it's used." Fuuma admitted. "I don't think it was, but I found it in the trash, so I've got no idea." 

"DUDE! Free persocon, you are one lucky bastard." 

Fuuma shook his head. "No, I'm not. I still have to buy software for it." He cringed at the thought of how much it was going to cost him. "Could you come over today and take a look at it? Tell me what I need?" 

"Sure thing, man." Sorata pulled his schoolbag out from under his chair and opened it. "Hey, 'nee-chan." 

After a moment, a little head poked out of the top of the bag, looking around with a dull, vaguely irritated expression. Sorata squealed. "She's so cute! I still can't get over it." 

Fuuma was beginning to think that cuteness was essential to the design of a persocon. Sorata's mobile unit climbed out of the bag and landed on her feet, smoothing her pleated skirt as she looked up at him. "Yes, Sora-chan?" The nickname which Sorata begged people to call him by sounded rather strange coming from a six-inch computer who spoke in a soft, bored voice. Sorata, however, seemed even more tickled. 

"We're goin' over to Monou's after school, so can you call home and tell Gramps that I'll be late for dinner?" 

The persocon, whom Sorata had named Arashi, nodded once before her eyes flickered and went blank. Fuuma watched with interest. He'd seen this done before, but never when he had his own frame of reference. The look on the Arashi's face was the same as Kamui's had been when Fuuma had hooked him up to the television screen. "Message sent." Arashi intoned, returning to normal and looking up at Sorata once again. 

Sorata patted her head. "Sanykuu, 'nee-chan." He chirped, holding out his hand, palm up, on the desk. Arashi stepped onto it delicately, and Sorata lifted her to sit on his shoulder. Technically, students weren't allowed to have their persocons out during class time, but since everyone -including the teacher-was watching the clock, no one was going to yell at Sorata. 

As the bell rang, the teacher waved her hand and called for the students to get out of the classroom so she could do her grading quickly. Fuuma and Sorata shouldered their schoolbags and headed out with the rest of their classmates, Arashi holding onto the collar of Sorata's uniform as he walked. "Did you bring your bike today?" 

Fuuma shook his head. "Kotori took it because I was taking too long." 

Sorata rubbed the back of his neck. "Tough break, man." He said, then paused, a gleam appearing in his eyes. "Does that mean she'll be at your house by the time we get there?" He asked, cackling and rubbing his hands together in a decidedly dramatic fashion. 

Fuuma smacked the back of his head. "No, stupid. She's going out with her friends." He glowered, raising his voice to be heard over his friend's chorus of 'ow'. "Besides," he grinned. "She knows better than to stay in the same room with you." 

"You wound me, Monou." 

"Not nearly enough for my peace of mind." Fuuma shot back as they left the building. The walk to the Tokagushi Shrine, where he and his family lived, was relatively short. Since he'd had to run to school that morning, Fuuma was immensely grateful for that fact. 

The two boys walked quickly, trading good-natured barbs almost the entire trip. Pulling his keys out of his schoolbag, Fuuma unlocked the front door just in time to hear a buzzing noise coming from the stairway. "Shit!" He dropped his bag and took the stairs two at a time, nearly slipping on the polished wood as he slid along it in his socks. 

Fuuma threw open his bedroom door and was instantly knocked flat on his back, his head connecting solidly with the floor as Kamui buried his face in his jacket. The persocon was shaking. "Too loud!" Fuuma just blinked slowly to clear the spots from his eyes and push back the pain in his head. "Fuuma stop noise." Kamui whimpered, sounding as if he were near tears. 

"You know your alarm clock's goin' off." Sorata called, coming up himself. "Though, why you set your alarm for when you're not home is beyond me…." The Kansai boy trailed off as he reached the top of the stairs, eyes widening. "Don't let me interrupt anything." 

Fuuma sat up, bringing the still-clinging Kamui with him, and groaned as everything swam briefly. "Oh shut up." He mumbled, having the presence of mind to yank the hem of Kamui's t-shirt down completely so it was no longer riding quite so high up his thigh. "Turn that thing off, will you?" 

To his credit, Sorata did as asked with little to no teasing. He squatted down next to the pair on the floor, looking Kamui over. "I'm guessing this is the persocon." He poked at Kamui, who just watched him with the ever-present curiosity. Sorata lifted the shirt a little, eliciting a squawk of protest from Fuuma, which he ignored. "I figured you'd get a female model, but I suppose beggars can't be choosers." 

Fuuma snorted darkly. "Thanks." 

Sorata continued to examine Kamui, a puzzled frown creasing his face. "I can't find a serial number or anything on it; that means it's gotta be a custom model. " He grasped Kamui's chin and looked at those wide purple eyes, frown deepening before he turned to Fuuma. "You said it needs a software upgrade?" 

"No," Fuuma replied, shaking his head. Kamui, having been released from Sorata's hold, did the same. "I need software. He doesn't have any." 

"You're kidding, right?" Sorata asked, looking surprised and even more confused than before. "That's not possible." 

"I'm not kidding. I tried to boot him up and just got an error that said he had no data." 

Sorata bounced a little on the balls of his feet, resting his arms on his knees. Kamui climbed off of Fuuma and imitated him. Sorata patted his head idly. "If it had no OS, then it shouldn't even be moving." 

"OS?" Fuuma asked, glancing at Kamui out of the corner of his eye. 

"Operating System." Sorata clarified, running a hand through his hair. Kamui did the same. "Without a program to tell them what to do, persocons are just really expensive dolls." Sorata lifted Arashi off his shoulder and set her on the floor. "Maybe it's just hard to find. We'll see if 'nee-chan can at least find its registry files, so we know what kind of persocon it is." 

Opening up one of Arashi's tiny plastic ears, Sorata connected a thin cable to a port inside one of Kamui's ears. Kamui followed his movements intently, reaching out to touch the cable. Sorata shooed his hand away, and Kamui contented himself with looking over at Fuuma, who just raised his eyebrows and shrugged, as if to relay that he didn't know any more than the persocon did about what was going on. 

Satisfied that everything was properly connected, Sorata lifted Arashi into his hands and placed her on his knee, so he could see better. "Okay, 'nee-chan, run a basic diagnostic and then run a search for the registry." 

"Yes, Sora-chan." Arashi's face slackened as she began her assignment. Kamui leaned forward a little, peering at Arashi. "Little." 

Fuuma nodded. "Mobile unit." He amended, turning to Sorata. "How long does it usually--" 

His question was interrupted by a shriek from Arashi, who toppled over into Sorata's waiting hands. Her eyes remained blank, and thin wisps of smoke curled out from her ears. 

"'NEE-CHAN!!" Sorata shouted, face crumpling. He cradled the little persocon to his chest, huge tears flowing in rivers down his cheeks. "No, 'nee-chan! Don't leave meeeeeee!!" 

Fuuma and Kamui exchanged a surprised glance. "What happened?!" Fuuma asked quickly, peering over Sorata's shoulder at the inert little body. 

Sorata stifled three or four sobs before facing him, looking bitter and glowering. "What HAPPENED?!" He fumed. "Your persocon FRIED my 'nee-chan!!" He turned back to Arashi, lower lip trembling. "And I just upgraded her too… but it's gone, it's all GONE!!" 

Fuuma looked Kamui over hurriedly. "You okay, Kamui?" 

"Kamui okay." 

Sorata sniffled loudly. "That thing's got some serious issues." He griped, clutching Arashi in one hand. "Get me a piece of paper and a pencil." When Fuuma retrieved them, Sorata scribbled down a name and address, pausing frequently to wipe his eyes. "This guy can probably tell you what's up with your persocon." He said, shoving the paper at Fuuma and standing. "See you later." 

Fuuma sat in surprised silence as Sorata turned and tromped down the stairs. "Hang in there, 'nee-chan." He heard him murmur. "I'll find a way to save you!" 

The Kansai boy muttered like that until the closing of the front door cut him off. After a moment, Fuuma looked over at Kamui. "Well, that was interesting." He said slowly. Actually, he had found the whole ordeal faintly disturbing. He had no idea a person could be -that- attached to a machine, so much so that they openly grieved when it broke. Shaking his head, he ruffled Kamui's hair a little as he stood. "I hope I don't end up like him." 

After the dinner dishes had been dried and put away, Fuuma climbed the stairs to his room. He hoped Kamui didn't have any questions tonight, he was too exhausted to deal with them. When he entered the room, Kamui looked up from a magazine. Fuuma groaned, not again. At least he had come in before the little copycat began to try out any new poses. 

Kamui pointed to the magazine. "Not bad!" He insisted, holding up the glossy-paged issue. It was one of Kotori's fashion magazines, which was certainly much better than porn where Kamui was concerned, though Fuuma did wonder where he'd gotten it. 

"Right, Kamui." He replied, crossing to his dresser and pulling out a clean pair of pajama pants. "That's not bad at all." 

"No more bad. Make bad go away." 

Fuuma paused, his shirt halfway over his head. "What did you say?" 

"Kamui make bad go away." 

//I hope he doesn't mean what I think he means…// Fuuma tossed his shirt on the floor and began to check around the room. The more places he inspected, the bigger the gnawing irritation became. The stack of magazines under the pile of clothes in his closet was gone, as was the box under his bed. Even the emergency reserve he had hidden in the bottom dresser drawer had been taken. "I don't believe this!" 

Kamui mistook his growing annoyance and beamed. "All clean!!" 


	4. Kamui Learns to Cook

**Digital Revelation**

Chapter Four: Kamui Learns to Cook 

Fuuma didn't sleep much that night either. Kamui had not exactly known why Fuuma had been so irked, but he was able to figure out that his owner was angry with him, and sulked guiltily for much of the evening. Fuuma discovered he was quite unable to stay angry at the persocon, especially when Kamui had meant well. Once forgiveness had been issued, Kamui happily went back to the magazine, reading it over and over again while Fuuma did a bit of light homework. 

The homework, which could have been completed in about an hour and a half, had taken almost four hours. Kamui learned things quickly, but Fuuma caught on just as fast. The cute, innocent, happy little persocon was the worst distraction he'd ever encountered. Fuuma had caught himself watching him more than once, for large chunks of time. It wasn't one specific thing that kept commanding Fuuma's attention; everything about the persocon was so foreign to him, so wonderful and different. Unfortunately, Kamui's wonderfulness had made it impossible to complete his homework until quite late at night. Fuuma remembered crawling into bed beside the persocon -who had fallen asleep long before him, which had resulted in several rounds of "observation" - somewhere around two in the morning. 

Fifteen hours later, on his way home from a disastrous soccer practice, Fuuma promised himself an early night. The next day was Sunday, his day off, and he had the whole day to do his homework and catch up on sleep. He also had a plan to take Kamui to the person Sorata had recommended; in the midst of his grief, the Kansai boy managed to give him the name of Imonoyama Nokoru. Fuuma wondered if this Nokoru was part of -the- Imonoyama family, the one that owned nearly half of Japan. He'd know tomorrow, one way or the other. He just hoped he'd be able to come away from the visit with some answers. 

He covered his mouth as a huge yawn slipped out, fumbling in his duffel bag for his house key. Coach had scolded him during practice for being half-asleep on the field, benching him for most of the session. As embarrassing as that had been, Fuuma was grateful to the man for not forcing him to play. He would have been trampled into the dirt in this condition. 

"I'm home." He called as he entered the house, trying not to sound as tired as he felt. Dropping his bag next to the door, he bent down to take his shoes off. 

"Welcome home, oniichan!" Kotori called from the kitchen. Fuuma could hear pots and pans banging around and remembered that it was her night to cook. His stomach tightened with hunger, grumbling urgently. He didn't care what she was making, he just hoped she'd made a lot. "Dinner's almost ready," she called, bless her little heart. "Why don't you go up and change?" Her voice drifted off to a lower volume, and several giggles could be heard over the ring of a timer. 

One of her friends must have come over for dinner, Fuuma reasoned, heading upstairs. That was fine, Father liked it when they brought friends home, though Fuuma speculated that he just liked to know his children had lives beyond the family and school. Both of them had been so closed off after Mother had died; Kotori had taken less time to recover, but she was younger and had a personality that demanded she be with people. It had taken Fuuma nearly six months to come out of his shell. Two years later, the Monou family had returned to normal, which was probably more therapeutic than anything else. 

Fuuma let himself into his room, slapping at the wall for a moment before finding the light switch. Crossing to his dresser, he pulled out some clothes to change into and began to unbutton his collar. 

In his drowsy haze, he managed to get halfway out of his uniform before he realized that he was all by himself. 

"Kamui?" He called, waiting to hear the name echoed in a reply. When nothing came, Fuuma felt a lump settle in his stomach. Kamui was gone. Fearfully, his mind considered all the worst possible things that could have happened to his persocon. Kamui's curiosity had gotten the better of him and he'd wandered out of the house and gotten lost… 

Or maybe he'd been kidnapped! After all, -someone- had thrown him in the trash, it wasn't unreasonable to think they might have discovered his disappearance and had come to take him back… where was he now? Was he hurt? Fuuma glanced at the clock and grimaced as he remembered Kamui's reaction to the alarm. Given the persocon's fear of loud noises, it was likely he was scared, wherever he was. 

Throwing on his change of clothes, Fuuma raced down the stairs, skidding toward the kitchen. "Kotori, I've gotta go out!" He called, poking his head under the curtain that covered the door. "I forgot something at school and I have to go get--" 

"Fuuma!" 

At first, Fuuma felt nothing but confusion. Kotori never called him that, and the voice was too young to be his father's. His sister didn't have many male friends, certainly none that she'd invite home for dinner. The boys at school knew better than to have designs on his sister; their fear of what he would do to them was widespread. 

He looked around the kitchen as his name was called again, and a second emotion, relief, flooded through him. Kamui sat at the counter, in the middle of cutting vegetables for dinner. The persocon beamed at him, setting the knife down to wave happily. "Welcome home!" 

Fuuma waved back, walking briskly toward Kamui and giving him a quick hug. He'd been so worried, afraid something bad had happened. A small voice nagged in the back of his mind, asking why he cared so much about a machine he'd only acquired two days ago. He pushed the voice away and looked down at Kamui. "I'm so glad you're all right!" He exclaimed. "What're you doing down here?" 

Kotori, not seeming upset in the least that she'd been temporarily forgotten, giggled. "I found him!" 

Kamui smiled up at him and Fuuma felt his cheeks go red as he remembered his audience. Quickly, he stepped away from Kamui and rounded on his sister. "What were you doing in my room?!" 

"Well, today was laundry day, and I wanted to see if you had any dirty clothes." She turned back to the pot on the stove, checking to make sure nothing was burning. "And there he was, just sitting on the bed, watching the door." She giggled. "He's so cute, he kept asking for you, and then I had to explain your schedule so he'd understand." 

Kamui had returned to chopping the vegetables, cutting each one in a precise, calculated fashion. "How was soccer, Fuuma?" He asked, clearly proud of his newfound abilities in conversation. 

Fuuma smiled a little, proud of him too, though a little jealous that it hadn't been a lesson he'd taught. "It was fine." Kotori hopped over to Kamui's side to gauge his progress, squealing with delight. "He's so cute, oniichan!" She gushed, patting his hair. "And such a smart persocon, Daddy will be so happy when he comes home. Where did you find him?" 

Again, the strange, bristling jealousy prickled across Fuuma's mind. Since when was Kamui going to be a family possession? He'd been the one to find the persocon, after all. -He- should be the one to decide who owned him. Kotori was still looking at him expectantly, while the object of this one-sided sibling dispute continued to cut vegetables. Shaking his head, Fuuma reminded himself that half of his reasons for wanting a persocon in the first place had been because it would make life for his family easier. He had to remember that, no matter how much it irked him to share, it was for the good of the family. 

"I found him…." Fuuma trailed off, running a hand through his hair. "I, ah, found him in a used persocon shop near work." He didn't want his family to know where Kamui had really come from, not until he knew why the persocon was so different from the others. If he told them the truth, they'd ask questions he had no answers to, and Father might disapprove of the idea of his son picking up trash and bringing it home. 

Not that Kamui was trash by any stretch of the imagination, he amended. 

Kotori clapped her hands. "Oh, that's wonderful, oniichan! You work so hard and you bought us this!" She hugged him tightly. "Daddy'll be so proud of you!" She squealed, letting him go and tending to the stew on the stove, calling for Kamui to come and dump the vegetables into the pot. The persocon followed her direction without question, peeking over the rim to watch the food cook. 

Fuuma frowned, watching the two of them together. Kamui smiled widely as Kotori praised his work, then jumped when the buzzer on the stove went off, looking scared only briefly, until Kotori patted his head. 

He didn't eat much at dinner, despite his previous hunger. After the meal was over, he begged off dish duty and went upstairs to bed. 


	5. Kamui Goes Out

**Digital Revelation**

Chapter Five: Kamui Goes Out 

Morning found Fuuma in a much better mood, a lightness brought about by a decent night's rest and the prospect of no school. Rather than set the alarm clock that woke him six days out of the week, Fuuma woke on his own, sometime around ten o'clock. Rubbing his eyes, he lay looking up at the ceiling for several minutes before considering getting out of bed. Next to him, Kamui stirred on top of the blankets, looking up at him. "'Morning." Fuuma mumbled, smiling sleepily. "How long've you been up?" 

Kamui tapped his lips with his finger before responding with "twenty minutes and seventeen seconds." 

Fuuma laughed, reaching over to ruffle his hair. "Well, sorry to keep you waiting so long." 

"Kamui doesn't mind. Fuuma needs sleep." Kamui grinned, nodding in agreement with his own statement. "To recharge." 

"True, but breakfast isn't a bad substitute either." Fuuma responded, throwing the covers off. "Besides, we've got a busy day today." 

"Busy?" 

Fuuma was halfway out the door before turning around to answer him. "Yeah, busy. Come on, I'll tell you about it over breakfast." Waiting until Kamui followed, Fuuma bounded down the stairs and into the kitchen. Not surprisingly, Kotori and Father were already up, and looked as if they had been for a while. "Morning!" Fuuma called, ducking into the refrigerator, pulling out an egg and some leftover miso soup. 

"Good morning!" 

Kotori giggled from her chair next to Father. "Good morning, oniichan, Kamui-chan." She turned to her brother. "There's rice in the cooker if you want it." 

Fuuma filled a bowl with rice and grabbed a pair of chopsticks from a drawer before plopping down into the chair across from his father. He let the egg roll around on the table while he stirred up the soup, mixing the paste with the broth. Kotori began to squeal, and he looked up to see Kamui pushing the egg around the table, watching it roll with an intense interest. "Look." He said, pointing to it. "Not straight." 

"Oh my, he has to be the cutest thing I've ever seen!" Kotori exclaimed, voicing an opinion Fuuma had at the same moment, but would have rather not said out loud. Instead, he got up from the table and retrieved another egg from the fridge, content to let Kamui play for a while. 

Their father looked at the scene over the edge of the Sunday newspaper, eyes laughing. "If that falls, you're cleaning it up, Fuuma." He said lightly. 

"Right, right." Fuuma said dismissively, cracking his own egg over the rice bowl, tossing the shell on the table while he stirred the yolk into the rice. He caught Kamui glancing from the bowl to the shell, and then up to him. Fuuma gestured to the empty shell. "It's food, Kamui. You break the shell, then eat the yolk inside." 

"Eat the yolk?" 

Fuuma nodded, picking up a clump of rice-and-egg with his chopsticks. "Yeah, but I don't think you should try and eat it, it might screw your insides up." He popped the food into his mouth and watched Kamui study the egg some more. Suddenly, the persocon whacked the egg against the table, sending smashed bits of shell onto the floor and getting the yolk all over his hands. Kotori jumped, then began to laugh at the shocked look on Kamui's face. That result had obviously been unexpected. 

Trying not to choke on his food, Fuuma managed to not laugh directly in Kamui's face. Even Father had a twinkle in his eye at the sight. Kamui turned his hands over, looking at the yolk as it dripped down his fingers. He looked like he was contemplating tasting it, when Kotori waved at him. "No, no, Kamui-chan!" She scolded gently. "Don't do that! Let me get you a towel." 

Father folded his paper and gazed across the table at Fuuma. "What are your plans today?" 

He finished the last little bit of rice before answering. "Well, Arisugawa told me about someone who can give Kamui a software upgrade. I thought we'd head over there after breakfast." Fuuma glanced at Kamui, who was being fussed over by Kotori and thus, not paying attention. He frowned, but just shook his head. "I think he might be one of the Imonoyama, but I'm not sure about that. If he is, then he can definitely help me." 

The surprise on Father's face beat out Kotori's by only a small margin. "An Imonoyama?" He asked. "Are you sure you'll even be able to see him?" 

//With everything Arisugawa told me about Kamui, I'm betting that we'll get in, no problem.// Fuuma nodded. "Arisugawa arranged everything for us, Father." In truth, Sorata hadn't spoken a coherent word to him after the incident two days ago. All he had been able to get from the Kansai boy had been a series of growls and muttered curses. Without Arashi, Sorata seemed completely lost. For the past couple of days, he had been late for class and hadn't done any of his assignments. Seeing how he used her for an alarm clock and homework help, Fuuma wasn't surprised. "Don't worry about anything." 

"Don't worry!" Kamui chirped, grinning widely. 

Father smiled at Kamui. "All right, if you say so. I hope it doesn't cost too much." 

Fuuma wholly concurred with that sentiment. Meanwhile, Kotori had finished cleaning Kamui's hands off and had begun to drag the persocon from the kitchen. "We'll have to get him some clothes!" She said firmly. 

"He can just use something of mine." Fuuma responded, resisting the urge to grind his teeth. 

Kotori wagged her finger at him. "Not if he's going to meet an Imonoyama, he's not!" She insisted. "He has to look -nice-, and so do you, oniichan!" With that, she disappeared upstairs, a bewildered looking Kamui in tow. 

Father merely chuckled. "She means well, Fuuma." He said, as if reading his son's angry thoughts. Fuuma still hadn't gotten over how quickly she had latched on to Kamui, as if he was a new doll or something for her to play with. Dammit, Kamui was -his-! 

"I know she does." Fuuma returned through clenched teeth. "I'll go get dressed now." He tried valiantly not to stomp up the stairs, thereby giving away just how irritated he felt. 

Kotori took a half an hour to find Kamui something to wear. What she came up with only cemented in Fuuma's mind that she considered the persocon to be something akin to a life-sized doll. When she dragged Kamui downstairs, he was wearing one of Fuuma's old school uniforms that their mother had saved. However, it was one of his uniforms from -elementary- school, complete with tie, jacket and a pair of shorts. "It's still a little big on him," Kotori observed as she straightened his tie for what seemed like the millionth time. For his part, 

Fuuma was horribly embarrassed at having to bring Kamui anywhere looking like that, despite how unbelievably cute he looked. 

//It's better than a sailor suit…// Fuuma grabbed Kamui by the hand, tired of waiting, and began to pull him out the door. "We'll be back later." He told his sister shortly, and disappeared out the door. For the next few blocks, Fuuma concentrated solely on getting as far away from home in the least possible time. Kamui ran awkwardly behind him, attempting to keep up on his shorter legs. Neither of them noticed just how many people were staring at them until they paused to rest-well, when Fuuma paused to rest, anyway-outside of a convenience store. 

There had to be a better way to go about getting to the address Sorata had given him than such a public route. Digging into his pocket for change, he found, with relief, that he had just enough for cab fare. Signaling the first one he saw, Fuuma shoved Kamui into the back seat and told the driver where to go. Fortunately, CLAMP Campus wasn't that far away. 

The number of security checkpoints the cab driver had to go through to get onto the campus came as an immense surprise to Fuuma; he had never seen so much security around a school before, certainly not enough to rival the protection granted to the Diet or Metropolitan Government Buildings. Upon seeing their destination, Fuuma felt himself grow faint. The Imonoyama Nokoru he was coming to see was indeed a member of the powerful family. He would be dealing with a very influential, sophisticated and rich person, wearing clothing he'd owned for years and accompanied by a persocon dressed like some child pornographer's wet dream. He could feel his breakfast threatening to come back up. 

"Imonoyama Mansion, sir." The driver called, pulling up in front of the huge wrought-iron gate. Beyond them stretched an enormous mansion; it was the closest thing Fuuma had ever seen to a castle, though it was nothing like the old English buildings he'd seen in history, or the ancient Osaka Castle he'd visited on vacation one time. He counted maybe four dozen windows in the front of the pristine white building, and who knew how many there were in the back. But any building with that many rooms had to be absolutely enormous on all sides. 

Fuuma paid the man, hands trembling slightly, and emerged from the cab, Kamui at his heels. The persocon looked up at him, concerned. "Fuuma is all right?" 

Laughing weakly, Fuuma shook his head. "This guy could probably wipe my family off the face of the earth." He muttered. "And I'm coming to -him- with a computer problem…" He had begun to think that perhaps, this wasn't such a good idea at all. 

The intercom at his elbow squawked, sending them both jumping at least a foot in the air. Whimpering, Kamui clung to Fuuma's sleeve as someone began talking. "Welcome to the Imonoyama Mansion." The speaker was female, and sounded decidedly unthreatening. "Please state your business." 

"Um… well… I'm Monou Fuuma, I'm here to see Imonoyama Nokoru-san about my persocon. I got his name from a friend of mine, Arisugawa Sorata. You see, I'm having some software trouble, and I was told he could help m--" 

"Please enter through the gates." The voice cut off Fuuma's babbling, thankfully, before he could really get started. With a soft squeaking noise, the iron gates opened, offering them a large, brick-laden path that led up to the main door. Fuuma stole a quick look behind him at Kamui, who just smiled up at him, oblivious as usual to anything amiss. The persocon took hold of his hand and waited for Fuuma to lead on, a frightening bit of trust that suddenly made Fuuma feel uncomfortable. Patting Kamui's head, he extracted his hand and hurried up the front walk. 

A few steps from the door, Fuuma turned and saw Kamui still standing at the gate, looking down at his hand. Fuuma bit his lip and forced down a feeling of guilt. Kamui couldn't be sad, could he? Even if he was, it was just a computer program… it wasn't as if those feelings were real. "Come on, Kamui!" He called. After a moment, the persocon ran to catch up to him. Fuuma turned and approached the massive wooden door, swallowing thickly and ringing the bell. 


	6. Kamui Gets Some Answers

**Digital Revelation**

Chapter 6 - Kamui Gets Some Answers 

The door opened almost immediately after, revealing a boy with bright blonde hair looking up at him with an appraising glance. The boy couldn't have been more than twelve or so, and he was flanked by a pair of persocons who didn't look much older than he. Fuuma smiled nervously down at him. "Ah… I'm here to see Imonoyama Nokoru-san. Is he home?" 

The boy smiled widely. "I am he." He offered a slight bow before snapping open a fan that had the character for "me" written on it. His big blue eyes sparkled with intelligence as he stepped back from the door, his two persocons following suit. "Please, come in." 

Fuuma gaped at the pint-sized trio, stepping inside the house dazedly. This kid was going to help him figure out what was wrong with Kamui?! -This- was the computer genius Sorata had talked about? Somehow, it didn't seem to be possible. "Um… sorry… but I thought you'd be… well…" 

"Older?" Nokoru asked, still smiling. Fuuma nodded, suddenly horrified that he'd offended. One of the persocons, a severe-looking boy model with blue hair, was glaring at him. However, Nokoru waved his comment off. "Many have said that. Please, don't worry about it." He turned and walked into the house, his persocons at his sides. Fuuma followed, feeling his brain ache from trying to wrap itself around the concept of a computer whiz being so young. He'd known the Imonoyama family was exceptional, but he hadn't expected a child genius to be part of the family tree. 

Nokoru led them to an expansive sitting room, and graciously motioned for Fuuma to sit on one of the huge couches. Kamui sat beside him, looking around the room with wide eyes, finger pressed to his lips. Nokoru settled down across from them, hands in his lap. His other persocon, a black haired boy model with a bright smile, scurried off to make tea. Fuuma, who hadn't been able to stop staring at Nokoru as he continued to make the pieces fit, caught a slight sadness to the boy's smile as he watched the persocon leave. 

"Ah… I didn't know they made persocons so young." Fuuma said, trying to start up what he hoped was an intelligent conversation. 

Nokoru turned to face him. "Actually, Akira's a custom model I designed." He said proudly before gesturing to the blue-haired persocon. "Suoh is as well. My best work, you might say." 

Fuuma was sure his eyes would fall out of his head, they were open so wide. "You -made- them?!" He exclaimed, impressed beyond words. "That's… wow…" 

"Thank you, Monou-san. But shall we focus on why you're here?" Nokoru snapped open his fan again, and this time, the character read "business." Fuuma wondered how he hid so many fans on such a small frame. "Arisugawa-san was unable to tell me much about your troubles." The boy slid off of the couch and stood in front of Kamui. The persocon met his gaze with his own curious one, mimicking Nokoru's head tilts. 

"He doesn't have any kind of OS." Fuuma explained. "Arisugawa said he shouldn't be moving." 

Nokoru nodded absently, studying Kamui with a growing interest. "That's certainly true, should lack of an operating system be the case, which I don't think it is." He tapped his now-closed fan against his palm. Kamui mimed the same action, eliciting a slight smile from the boy. "He looks quite familiar." 

That caught Fuuma's attention. "Really?" He asked, sitting up straighter. "Do you know who made him?" 

"Unfortunately, I can't determine that by just looking at him." He gave Fuuma a sympathetic smile before turning back to Kamui. "But finding out his origin is definitely one of my priorities now." He said quietly, the sympathetic smile he had given Fuuma turning into a broad, excited grin. 

Suoh frowned. "Kaichou," he began gruffly. "You have other work to do. All that paperwork for the student government--" 

"But this is a CHALLENGE, Suoh!" Nokoru shot back, eyes glowing with a slightly manic fire. "Something like this doesn't come around every day!" 

"Work first. Challenge later." 

"But Suuuoooh….!!" 

Fuuma got the distinct impression that this was a common exchange between the persocon and his owner. "Um… So what software do I need to buy?" He asked, raising his hand timidly. Both parties turned to look at him. Suoh folded his arms, an irritated expression on his face. Nokoru shook his head. 

"I don't believe the problem is with his basic software, Monou-san." The boy said, pulling out a small keypad from his pocket and pressing a few buttons. "Your persocon's OS seems to be functioning, but Arisugawa-san was able to tell me about the unfortunate incident involving his persocon and yours." He made a 'tsk'ing sound. "Such a shame, but I'm sure he'll be able to get her fixed." 

Nokoru replaced the keypad in his pocket as three persocons entered the room. The first was a female model, dressed in a -very- tight Chinese shirt and pants, her hair done up in buns on either side. Fuuma found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on her face, so he examined her companions, a pair of male models in high school uniforms, one brunette and one with black hair. Both looked fairly unremarkable, and Fuuma wondered what the three of them were for. 

"Don't worry, Monou-san," Nokoru said cheerfully as he extracted a cable from Kamui's ear and plugged it into the brunette male. "These three are also my design, and therefore very advanced. I'm sure we'll be able to figure out what's wrong." 

Ten minutes later, all three persocons lay on the floor, smoke curling out of their ears. Nokoru's expression bordered on frustration as he surveyed the situation. "So many questions… when it rains, it pours, I suppose." 

Fuuma was staring in horror at the three fried persocons. //I hope I don't have to pay to get those fixed…// 

"Kaichou?" Suoh spoke up, unfolding his arms. When Nokoru turned to face him, the blue-haired persocon pulled a cable out of his own ear. "Let me try." 

Nokoru startled, looking upset at the suggestion. "Suoh…" 

Suoh walked over the three fallen persocons and stood beside Kamui, who looked up at him. "You want to know what's wrong with him, right? Let me try." 

Resigned to this being the only option, Nokoru nodded, looking more and more concerned. "Be careful, Suoh." He said slowly, as the persocon plugged his cord into a port in Kamui's ear. 

"Of course, Kaichou." Suoh responded, before his eyes went blank. His lips moved quickly, forming words Fuuma couldn't catch. Fuuma watched, amazed as the persocon worked. Maybe Nokoru was right; maybe his designs were advanced enough to break through whatever prevented Kamui from working properly. His hope was quickly crushed as Suoh let out a loud grunt, slumping forward. Fuuma caught him before Nokoru could, and the persocon blinked once, looking dazed. 

"Suoh!" Nokoru cried, hovering over him. "Are you all right?" 

The persocon nodded slowly. "I believe so, Kaichou..." he said. "I only lost the data relating to your appointments this week." 

Nokoru managed a weak smile. "Well, isn't that too bad?" 

Suoh looked sternly at him. "I didn't lose anything that wasn't backed up, Kaichou." He wagged a finger at the blonde as he stood back up, nodding in thanks to Fuuma. 

"He's really okay?" Fuuma asked nervously, inspecting Suoh for any signs of smoke. 

"Oh yes, Monou-san." Suoh assured him. "Kaichou backs up all my data and programs in case something happens." He removed his cable from Kamui's ear. "Your persocon has an extremely complicated firewall protecting itself." 

"Firewall?" 

Nokoru nodded. "A barrier that keeps unauthorized people out." He tapped his chin with his closed fan. "Kamui-san's firewall no doubt overloaded Arisugawa-san's mobile unit, not to mention the three I tried." 

"So, if you can't get through it, Imonoyama-san…" Fuuma began, feeling a dread seep into his mind. 

Nokoru just smiled. "There has to be someone who can." He said, snapping open his fan. The character this time read "knowledge!" "I'm going to post an inquiry on one of my newsgroups about Kamui-san. I'm sure the information is out there." 

Fuuma's eyes widened. "Really?" He asked, incredulous. "You'd do that? I mean, I don't really have anything to pay you with--" 

Nokoru raised a hand and cut him off. "Don't even think about it, Monou-san. This is a welcome challenge for me." He leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially. "Truthfully, all the Student Council work is getting kind of boring--" 

"KAICHOU!!" 

Sheepishly, Nokoru laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Anyway, I'll pass any information I find on to you." He turned to Kamui and bowed a little. "We'll have you working properly in no time, Kamui-san." 

Kamui appeared for a moment to not understand him in the slightest, then smiled brightly, mimicking the bow. "Thank you!!" 

Nokoru smiled at the persocon, and then turned back to Fuuma. "May I have a word, Monou-san?" He asked, motioning to follow. 

Fuuma hopped to his feet immediately. "Of course, Imonoyama-san." Kamui made a move to accompany them, but Fuuma placed a hand on his shoulder and sat him back down. "I'll be right back, Kamui." He said firmly, ruffling the persocon's hair when he pouted. "You stay here, okay?" 

"Kamui stay here." Kamui agreed quietly. Fuuma couldn't help feeling sorry for him, the poor thing was probably overwhelmed at being in someplace so different from the Monou household, and at having Nokoru examine him like some kind of laboratory animal. 

He offered the persocon a smile and followed Nokoru into a small room just off to the side. The boy analyzed him critically, twirling his fan between two fingers. After a moment or two of silent inspection, Fuuma began to feel uncomfortable, but said nothing. God forbid he offend someone who had just offered to help him for -free-. Nokoru took a deep breath before speaking. "Monou-san, you mustn't get attached to Kamui-san." 

Well, -that- certainly took him off guard. "Wha…?" He asked eloquently, looking down at the boy with a bemused expression. 

"Kamui-san seems like a very nice persocon." Nokoru said. "He's rather childlike, quite sweet, actually. But no matter what he seems to be, he will -never- be anything more than a computer." 

Fuuma frowned, something feeling slightly insulted that Nokoru would say something like that. "I know that, Imonoyama-san.. but--" 

" 'But' nothing, Monou-san." Nokoru's eyes were intense and serious, totally out of place in his youthful body. "You cannot feel anything for Kamui-san, not friendship, not love. 

"If you do, he will break your heart." 


	7. Kamui Makes a Friend

**Digital Revelation**

Chapter 7 - Kamui Makes a Friend 

"Fifty steps forward…. Fourty-nine…. Fourty-eight… Fourty-seven…" 

Several pedestrians stopped and watched as Kamui walked down the sidewalk, counting softly to himself. Exactly fourty-six steps later, he stopped at an intersection. "TURN!" He declared, making a left and continuing on his way. Counting was fun; it was one of the several things that Kamui used to entertain himself on a daily basis. Whether he counted out inari to put in the lunches, or counting how many pieces of clothing he picked up off of Fuuma's floor; there was always something that could be expressed in a numerical value. 

Another thing that could be counted was time. Kamui knew exactly how long it had been since his activation: one week, four days, seventeen minutes and thirty-five seconds… thirty-six…. 

The Monou family had adjusted quickly to him being in their lives, and he was learning to like them all very much. Kyouga, the adult-called "Father" and "Daddy" by his children-seemed to be a nice man. Kotori said he was, and Kamui believed her. He had no reason not to. Kotori herself also fit into the "nice" category. She had helped him to learn how to cook and speak better, she had found clothes for him to wear. She hugged him a lot, which he liked. Kamui sometimes felt slightly guilty when she did, because Fuuma didn't appear to like it. 

"Hugging Kamui is not good." Kamui said to himself, as he walked faster down the street. "Kamui should not let Kotori hug Kamui if Fuuma not like it." If Fuuma didn't like it, then he would be unhappy. And Kamui couldn't have that. He wanted nothing more in the world than for the one who had found him, had taken him in, to be happy. 

Though the entire Monou family used him for various chores, Kamui's whole world revolved first and foremost around the tall, serious, dark-haired boy. Every word, look and touch meant so much more coming from Fuuma; as far as Kamui was concerned, Fuuma owned him. That was what made Kamui happy, he thought with a smile. 

He entered the gates to the high school the Monou siblings attended just as the dismissal bell rang. Students began to filter out, paying little to no attention to him as they passed. Kamui also paid them no mind once he had determined that they were "not Fuuma." Scanning the crowd, he tried to catch a glimpse of the boy or his sister. Unfortunately, his stature made it difficult to see above the heads of most of the upperclassmen. 

"Can I help you?" A female voice from behind him asked politely. As Kamui turned, he heard a slight gasp of surprise. "Oh… I didn't realize you were a persocon." She said, her eyes wide behind her gold-rimmed glasses. Kamui looked at the woman, taking in her straight black hair and white, knee-length coat. 

"Fuuma is where?" He asked, tilting his head. The woman was an adult, and therefore, it was possible she might know where he could find Fuuma. 

Instead, the woman appeared puzzled. "I'm sorry, I don't know him." As Kamui turned to leave, she rested her hand on his shoulder. Surprised, Kamui just looked at her hand, then back up at her. "But if you wait here, I'm sure he'll turn up." She smiled easily, the corners of her eyes crinkling up. "My name is Tokiko. What's yours?" 

"Kamui." 

Her lips parted, forming an "O" in surprise. The look quickly vanished, replaced by another smile. "It's nice to meet you, Kamui-kun." She studied him carefully, appearing to find him of great interest. 

Kamui turned back to the crowd. "Must find Fuuma." He told Tokiko. "Help look please?" 

Tokiko laughed lightly. "Is Fuuma your owner?" 

Nodding, Kamui smiled a little. "Fuuma found Kamui. Kept Kamui, even though Kamui is broken." The one thing Kamui regretted was that he wasn't working the way he was supposed to. At least, that's what everyone said about him. Kamui did things the only way he knew, but if he had functioned as he'd been designed to, maybe Fuuma would like him more. Since the day they'd visited the boy with the many persocons, Imonoyama Nokoru, Fuuma had talked to Kamui less. He didn't touch Kamui at all, and had a strange look in his eyes whenever he looked at him. 

Kamui knew he'd done something to cause it, something he would not have done if he wasn't broken. 

Tokiko squeezed his shoulder. "Fuuma sounds like a nice boy to do that." She smiled down at him. "You seem to be working all right to me, Kamui-kun." She said with a wink. "Maybe it just takes time." 

"Kamui-chan!!" 

Turning immediately from Tokiko, Kamui saw Kotori running toward him, followed by the spiky-haired boy with the funny accent. Kamui recognized him as one of Fuuma's friends, Arisugawa Sorata. Perched on Sorata's shoulder was his dour-looked mobile unit. 

"Good afternoon, Kotori." Kamui managed to say before being enveloped in a hug by the exuberant blonde girl. When she pulled back, he looked over her shoulder. "Fuuma is where?" 

"Monou went to work, Kamui." Sorata answered, joining up with them. "He switched with someone and left right after the bell." 

Kamui felt a pang of sadness. Work meant that Fuuma would not be home until late. Fuuma worked very hard to earn money, and Kamui understood that it was so he could buy things for him. But it didn't mean he didn't miss the older boy when he wasn't there. 

His disappointment must have shown, because Kotori glanced at him in surprise. "Oniichan didn't tell you?" She asked, her big blue eyes wide. "He must have forgotten. Don't worry, Kamui-chan, I'll yell at him for you." She took his hand and started walking. 

"It was nice talking to you, Kamui-kun." 

Kamui looked over his shoulder at Tokiko, who had her hands in her pockets. She nodded at him, smiling. Kamui waved, then let Kotori continue to pull him along. Sorata walked with them; insisting, as he often did, that he walk Kotori home. 

"Never know when there could be weirdos out there, Kotori-chan." He was saying, wagging his finger. 

Kotori giggled. "Oniisan says you're one of them, Arisugawa-san." 

Sorata clutched his hands to his chest and stumbled a little, Arashi hanging on tightly to his collar to keep from being thrown backward. "Kotori-chan, you don't think I'd do anything to you, do you?!" He cried, seemingly hurt by her comment. 

Kotori's face turned a little pink. "No, Arisugawa-san." She said, still giggling. "Oniichan is just very protective." 

"Don't I know it," Sorata griped, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked behind him at Kamui. "How's it goin' with the persocon?" He asked, pointing at Kamui. "Did Nokoru-san tell you guys anything yet?" 

Kotori shook his head. "Oniichan hasn't said anything about it. I think he's getting nervous…." She bit her lip. "Kamui-chan's software might cost more than he can afford." 

Kamui watched the conversation intently, taking in everything they'd said. Everyone talked about him as if he wasn't there. Kamui knew that since he was a machine, he was different from people, and sometimes people forgot he was there. It was all right, he had learned that people were forgetful. That was why persocons like himself had been created. He was supposed to help them with things like remembering. Or with earning money…. 

"Kotori? Kamui can have a job?" 

The girl turned to look at him, surprised. "I'm not sure, Kamui-chan." She replied, thinking it over carefully. "You might want to ask oniichan about it." 

Later that night, Kamui sat on Fuuma's bed, waiting for him to come back from work. He had not been needed for dinner, Kyouga had brought home sushi, and since Kamui didn't eat, he was allowed to go upstairs. He had been thinking long and hard about getting a job in order to help Fuuma. Maybe if Kamui worked too, Fuuma wouldn't have to spend so much time at his restaurant. It was a good idea, he hoped Fuuma would say it was all right. 

He perked up as he heard footsteps on the stairs. They were heavier than Kotori's and faster than Kyouga's, so it only left one possible option. A moment later, Fuuma let himself into the room. Kamui jumped to his feet immediately. "Welcome back!" 

Fuuma grinned in his direction, and Kamui echoed it, delighted to see him back to the way he had been. "Thanks!" Fuuma flopped down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling before directing his gaze to Kamui. "I had a great night, made a ton of money." A light pink color appeared on Fuuma's cheeks, similar to the blush Kamui had seen on Kotori's face earlier that day. Kamui had begun to believe such a thing happened when people were talking to someone special. As a result, his mood was lifted even further. Fuuma was definitely back to his old self. 

"One of the girls I work with offered to make me lunch tomorrow." Fuuma's face broke out into a silly, lopsided grin. "She's really cute, and -stacked-, you wouldn't believe someone so little-ah well, not that you really care, right?" The boy sat up, excited. "I think she likes me! Her dad's my boss, so I can't do anything -really- bad, or I might get fired." He laughed a little, rubbing his neck. "But still… it's great to have someone make me a lunch." 

Kamui blinked. "Kamui makes Fuuma lunch." He said, recalling his morning chore. 

Fuuma waved his hand, dismissively. "Yeah, yeah… but you're different. She's doing it 'cause she likes me." He bounced to his feet, grabbing towel and his shower supplies. "Gonna take a shower." He said, voice still buoyed to a giddy level. 

Kamui could hear him whistling down the hall, and felt his own spirits fall quite suddenly. He moved to collect Fuuma's discarded backpack. "Kamui likes Fuuma…." He whispered to the empty room as he put the things away. 


	8. Kamui Gets a Present

**Digital Revelation**

Chapter 8 - Kamui Gets a Present 

After everything had settled, the two boys bedded down. Despite Fuuma's current fear of becoming too close to something that was no more than a machine, he didn't have the heart to make Kamui sleep on the floor. There was a couch downstairs, but when it had been suggested, Kamui seemed a little fearful of sleeping there, so Fuuma hadn't pushed it. Besides, there wasn't anything that would disrupt the natural order of things; Kamui slept on top of the sheets, and Fuuma kept his back to him. It had worked at the beginning, there was no reason anything should change. 

"Fuuma?" 

Fuuma shifted, turning over to face the persocon, who was looking at him intently. Kamui never seemed to be tired before he slept; he simply shut his eyes and shut down when he chose. Right now, the persocon seemed content to gaze at Fuuma, wide eyes shining in the darkness. "What is it, Kamui?" 

Kamui bit his lip, a mannerism he must have picked up from Kotori. "Kamui can have a job?" 

Well, that certainly was not what Fuuma had expected. The idea wasn't out of the question; lots of persocons held jobs in various establishments. Even his restaurant had a persocon as its cashier. But they were all complete, fully functioning models, whereas Kamui.... well, he still lacked something. "Why do you want a job, Kamui?" 

"Want to help Fuuma." Kamui stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Kotori says Kamui's software will cost much, and Fuuma is worried." 

Fuuma felt his jaw sag. Kamui wanted to go to work to help him? It was both the nicest and most surprising thing he'd heard in a while. Fuuma felt himself smile. "Kamui... thank you." He thought it over for a moment; if Kamui could find the right job, one that didn't require too many responsibilities, it probably would work out perfectly. "I think a job is a fine idea." 

The smile lit up Kamui's face, and Fuuma found himself wondering --- not for the first time --- if it was all just a program telling Kamui what to do in any situation. "What type of job do you want?" 

Kamui tapped his lips, then reached under the bed, straining his short arms so much that he nearly toppled off the bed. Fuuma held onto his shirt to keep him from hitting the floor, and after a moment of searching, Kamui held up an extremely old copy of a pornographic magazine. Fuuma felt his eyes go wide. Uh-oh.... 

"Kamui can do." The persocon said, pointing to the girl on the cover. "Make pictures." 

"No!" Fuuma snapped, making Kamui jump and surprising himself with his own vehemence. "Ah... no, Kamui," he said again, kinder this time. "I don't want you doing that kind of job." He ruffled the persocon's hair. "You're too good for that." 

Kamui smiled, enjoying the attention. "What Kamui can do then?" 

"Well, you don't have much to do tomorrow, right? Why don't you walk around the neighborhood and see who's hiring." Kamui could get a job as a waiter, or maybe handing out tissues to the train and subway commuters, something that wasn't extremely complicated. He was cute, and that would definitely work in his favor. "Pick a few you like, and when I get home from lunch, I'll go out with you and we'll see what we can do. Sound good?" 

Kamui nodded. "Sound good." He tilted his head to the side as Fuuma yawned widely. "Fuuma must sleep. Good night!" He chirped as he closed his eyes, instantly going limp. Fuuma propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at him, resisting a sudden and very powerful urge to touch Kamui's face, to push the fine black hair away from his unblemished forehead. He's only a persocon, he reminded himself. A machine; something created to be used, not loved. Nokoru had been right, any sort of attachment to Kamui would be bad. 

Clenching his hand into a fist, he turned over and waited to fall asleep. It took much longer than he would have liked. 

The next morning, Fuuma blearily slipped into his uniform as Kamui watched; the persocon had found a way to avoid having to hear the alarm clock by waking up earlier and making breakfast and the lunches for that day. Since Fuuma had slept a little later than he should have, Kamui had plenty of time to watch him stumble around in an attempt to get dressed. 

Fuuma found his jacket and shouldered his backpack, before pausing. "Oh, that's right!" He said as he took the bag off and opened it up. "Kamui, I have something for you." 

Kamui blinked, confused. "Have something?" 

"Yup," he said as he pulled a large, flat book out of his bag. It had been on the sale rack of one of the bookstores he passed on the way to work, and he thought Kamui might like it. The persocon had gone through all of his manga, and nearly half of Kotori's romance novels, so it was obvious he liked to read. Fuuma held it out to him. "It's kind of deep for a children's' book, but I thought you might want a book of your own." 

For a moment, Kamui just looked at him. Then, hesitantly, he reached out and took the book. "A City Where No One Was." He read the title aloud, slowly and in a sort of awed voice. Then he looked up at Fuuma carefully. "For Kamui to have?" 

Fuuma just nodded, smiling a little. Kamui launched forward, hugging him tightly as Fuuma fought to keep his balance. "Thank you, Fuuma!" The persocon exclaimed, his face so radiant with happiness, that Fuuma felt his breath catch in his throat. Struck speechless for the moment, he just touched his palm to Kamui's cheek, feeling the skin under his fingers move as Kamui's mouth formed a surprised 'O'. "Fuuma," Kamui breathed, purple eyes impossibly wide. "Kamui--" 

"Oniichan! We are going to be LATE!" 

Kotori's shout sent them both jumping, startling them out of whatever spell had settled over the small bedroom. Fuuma backed up hastily, picking up his bag, wondering what the hell had just gotten into him. He waved at Kamui halfheartedly, then ran downstairs. Ignoring his sister, he slipped on his shoes and hurried out the door. 

--- 

"Laundry~ laundry~..." Kamui loaded a basket of clothing into the washer, talking to himself in a sing-song voice. He dumped the soap into the machine and set the dial, then sat down on the floor in front of it to wait for the wash to finish. On his lap, he held the book Fuuma had given him that morning. Running a hand over the wide blue and white cover, he smiled. Fuuma had given him a present. And not just any present, one he had thought about and spent some time considering. Kamui knew that the moment Fuuma gave him the book was the happiest moment of his short life. 

"The City Where No One Was." He read aloud, opening the book. On the first page, a small, pink creature stood alone amid towering city buildings, each window colored yellow to show light. Kamui held the book at an angle as he began to read. 

_"There was no one in that city at all. There were houses, to be sure, and from the windows light was shining, but there was no one in the streets at all."_

The creature, who Kamui thought looked rather like a rabbit with big, droopy ears, walked to one of the houses. 

_"I peeked through one of the windows. There was someone there, but it was with one of THOSE. I looked into the other houses, and the people were always with one of THOSE."_

The rabbit-like creature turned back to the street, looking upset. 

_"This city is just the same as all the others. Being with THOSE is fun. It's more fun than being with people. So no one comes out anymore. There is no one in this city at all."_

As he kept reading, Kamui found himself totally absorbed in the book. Everything outside of this little world: the washer humming at his back, birds chirping outside, Kyouga sweeping the leaves off the shrine walk, everything fell away. 

Inside the book, the creature began to walk down the street, head bowed. 

_"I will go on a journey. I will go and try another city. I wish somebody would find me. Somebody for me alone. But if that somebody for me alone should come to care only for me, that will be the moment of our parting."_

Kamui's brow furrowed, something about the words echoing within him, though he couldn't place what made them familiar. 

"..mu…i..." 

Kamui turned another page, this one showed the creature setting off on the road leaving the city. 

_"Still, I want to meet someone for me alone. I will hold to that thought as I travel again through the city where no one was."_

"Kamui…" 

At the sound of his name, Kamui jumped to his feet, looking around. He was surrounded by a solid blackness; the furniture and machinery of the laundry room suddenly gone. "Someone called Kamui." He said, squinting into the blackness. "Who?" 

"I did." 

Turning around quickly, he found himself looking straight at himself. Eyes widening, he reached a hand out to touch the mirror image, to see if it was real. However, his hand met an unseen wall, preventing him from reaching this other Kamui. The other mimicked his action, settling its hand by his own. 

The other smiled, but Kamui felt himself want to recoil from it. Something about it made him feel hunted, as if this person wanted to hurt him. "Who?" 

"I'm /Kamui/." The other said. "I am you, and you're me." 

Kamui frowned. "How are two?" 

/Kamui/ pressed his hand forward, and Kamui could feel the wall move. He jumped a little, making his other self laugh. "We were created at the same time, Kamui. We're one and the same." 

"How come Kamui never see before?" Kamui asked, yelping soon after when /Kamui's/ fingers closed around his own, pulling him forward. Stunned, Kamui watched his arm pass through the barrier, while the rest of him pressed against it, unable to penetrate it. 

/Kamui/ studied him critically. "You really do remember nothing." He shook his head. "How strange." He jerked a little harder, pulling Kamui off balance. He fell forward into the barrier, his head and shoulders passing through. His fear growing, Kamui realized he couldn't move away as /Kamui/ leaned closer, bringing up his free hand to touch Kamui's cheek. "From now on, Kamui, your thoughts will be my thoughts. I will see out your eyes and hear with your ears. I will know everything that happens to you." 

Kamui couldn't understand what was happening. This person who looked so much like him, sounded like he did, frightened him more than he'd ever known. And yet, he found something comforting in having met someone so similar. 

/Kamui/ rested his forehead against Kamui's, staring deep into his eyes. "You've found your only person, haven't you?" His thumb caressed Kamui's cheek as his smile faded, transforming into a smirk. 

"Be careful who you choose, Kamui." He whispered, pressing his lips against Kamui's in a firm kiss. He pulled away as Kamui stared. His other's eyes filled with a darker emotion, one Kamui couldn't recognize. No trace of a smile remained. "If he doesn't return it, he'll be the first one to go." 

--- _Translation of "City Where No One Was" appear courtesy of Sekai Seifuku (http://sekaiseifuku.net/chobits.html)_


	9. Kamui Finds a Job

_Oh my... I wonder if anyone remembers this fic. ^^;; It's been a while, hasn't it? I fixed a hangup with the plot, so I hope to be a little more productive with this story from now on. ^^ Enjoy!_

**Digital Revelation**

Chapter 9 - Kamui Finds a Job 

"Kaichou." 

Nokoru turned at the sound of Suoh's voice. The blue-haired persocon regarded him seriously, with a slight air of discomfort. "What is it, Suoh?" Nokoru asked, swiveling around to face him fully. 

"You have a response to your post about Kamui-san." 

The blonde boy visibly perked up. "Really? Wonderful!" He swiftly connected the persocon to a monitor, waiting for the message to come up on the screen with a sort of manic glee. "I had expected it to take much longer. This will be helpful for Monou-san, though I will have to find something else to entertain me--" 

"Try doing some work for a change." Suoh chastised as he accessed the stored email. Nokoru glanced at him fondly, though the affection was tinged with a distinct sadness. Suoh had seen it before; his creator often regarded him and Akira with an expression that bordered on pain. Suoh had given up asking after having the question blown over several times. It was not in his programming to be overly curious, and though Nokoru never ordered him and Akira to do anything, the final evasion had been as good as a demand to stop asking. Suoh could not press if his enigmatic creator did not want him to. 

The accursed fan emerged from one of its several hiding places and flipped out in front of Nokoru's face, hiding the expression while reading "always at work!" Suoh seriously doubted their definitions of "work" meshed, but chose not to argue the point. He turned to look at the email as it came up on the monitor. The mail contained a picture attachment, which downloaded quickly. 

Nokoru frowned as he examined the image, Suoh guessed that it was not what he expected and he scrutinized it himself. It was a picture of a woman, probably in her late twenties or early thirties. She was pretty by human standards, with long, brown hair that fell in waves around her thin face. She was dressed in a white laboratory coat, which fit in with the background. The woman was probably a scientist, and the picture had been taken in her research facility. Long tables of technical equipment spread out behind her. 

Next to her sat another woman, with the same thin, delicate features, though this one's hair was straight and pitch-black. She also wore a pair of thin framed glasses. Suoh analyzed the similarity in the appearance and concluded that they had to be related. 

"Suoh," the blonde's voice was hushed, excitement evident there though it might not show on his contemplative face. "Look there." Pressing a finger to the monitor, Nokoru indicated another presence in the picture. 

Against the back wall of the laboratory, held upright on a stand, was a small persocon. Though his eyes were closed and the slackened expression far from the smiling and curious nature Suoh remembered, the resemblance was uncanny. 

"It's Kamui-san." 

--- 

The city of Tokyo was much bigger than Kamui had ever dreamed. Street after street spread in front of him, some drifted off to one side, others coursed in front of him, enticing him on under bridges, between rows of stores and office buildings. Kamui spent more time staring up at the massively tall buildings than he did looking for a job. 

To the little persocon's credit, he had looked. He had done as Fuuma had asked, and he had a long list of possible places of employment stored in his mind. Once he wandered out of the neighborhood where the Monou Family lived, he had stopped paying attention to the help wanted signs. Fuuma probably wouldn't want him to work too far away. 

All around him, the citizens of Tokyo bustled about, taking little to no notice of him unless they wanted to hand him something. A nice person had wanted to give him a packet of tissues, but Kamui had politely declined. Kotori had told him to not take things from strangers. 

"Excuse me?" 

Kamui turned, looking up in surprise as a well-dressed man approached. He was tall and smiley, his blond hair shining in the pale afternoon sunshine, accented by his dark mauve suit. "Excuse me, but would you be interested in modeling for my company?" 

Kamui tilted his head in the man's direction. "Model?" He asked, having very little idea how he could be a model. Such people were women, and human ones at that. 

The man nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, model. You see, I have a group of people very interested in persocon design. Yours is one of the best I've seen for your type, and I was hoping you would model for them." 

Shaking his head, Kamui started backing away. "Sorry, Kamui need job. No time to model." 

"We could pay you for helping us." 

That made Kamui pause. "Pay? He asked. Fuuma had told him to wait until the older boy was there to help him choose a job, but this man was offering money now... The faster Kamui could earn his own keep in the Monou family, the better it would be for Fuuma. 

And maybe Fuuma would be proud of him for finding work on his own. 

"Where Kamui need go?" Kamui asked the man, who simply smiled in response, draping an arm around the persocon's shoulder and ushering him toward one of the side streets. 

"Right this way, Kamui-san." He said in a smooth voice. "Just follow me." 

--- 

"Monou-saaaaan!" 

Fuuma looked up expectantly as he heard his name being called. Sure enough, a girl with short black hair was running his way, carrying a huge bento box in one hand and a leash in the other. Attached to the leash was the largest dog he'd ever seen. It appeared to be one of those dogs that pulled sleds in Alaska, a husky, and it also seemed to be dragging its mistress down the park pathway. 

Waving, Fuuma sidestepped the enthusiastic dog's greeting - namely, trying to jump on him and knock him flat on his back. He gingerly petted the slobbering dog on the head and turned to its gasping owner. "Good afternoon, Yuzuriha-chan." He greeted happily, earning a huge smile in response. 

"Good afternoon! I'm sorry to keep you waiting, Papa wanted me to bring Inuki for protection." 

Fuuma laughed nervously; so much for the boss trusting him with his teenaged daughter. "Oh? He doesn't look very mean…" 

Yuzuriha smiled mischievously. "He can be! Around strangers or perverts, he can be really dangerous!" The impish quality of her smile dissolved as she began to giggle. "But I told him all about Monou-san before we got here. Inuki knows you're a friend." 

"I'm glad to hear that, Inuki." Fuuma said, leaning down to pet the dog once again. 

Holding out the cloth-wrapped bento box, Yuzuriha bounced a little on the balls of her feet. "Where should we eat?" She asked, scanning the park's grounds for a suitable spot. "OH! There's a nice tree over there!" She cried, running for the shade of a massive oak right in the center of the park. 

Fuuma followed, grinning. He'd hardly believed his good luck when Yuzuriha had asked him out for lunch as they were closing the night before. The boss' "little girl" was aggressively cute, and only a few years younger than he; he remembered her mentioning being in her last year of middle school. He would have been a little wary if -she- hadn't been the one to offer. After turning it over and over in his mind, he had decided that he was definitely on a date. Why would a girl make him lunch if she didn't like him -that- way? 

By the time he'd caught up, Yuzuriha and Inuki had situated themselves under the sprawling branches of the oak tree. Yuzuriha had started unpacking the lunch. Fuuma couldn't suppress a whistle of admiration at the sheer amount of food she'd made up. One section held rice balls, another had what looked like chicken curry with rice, and still one more contained pickled vegetables. There was probably more than enough to feed three people with what Yuzuriha had brought. Impressive, to say the least. 

Yuzuriha giggled, blushing at his whistle, and waved to him. "Come and eat, Monou-san! There's plenty of food!" 

"I'll say there is." Fuuma remarked as he plopped down beside her and took the offered chopsticks. "It all looks delicious!" The girl looked immensely happy at his observation, and she waited expectantly as he took a bite of curry. Giving her a "thumbs up" sign, he proceeded to devour his share. 

The two ate in relative silence for a few moments, their conversation limited to food quality and offerings of more tea. Fuuma was chewing thoughtfully on a rice ball, contemplating his excellent fortune, when Yuzuriha squeaked. Looking up, he saw her point across the sidewalk at a couple on a bench. 

Upon closer observation, Fuuma realized it was a businessman with his persocon. The brown-haired, fairly mild-looking man in glasses rubbed the back of his neck, pleasantly embarrassed, as the female model held out a piece of fish in a pair of chopsticks. She smiled when he took the morsel, chewing appreciatively. 

Fuuma felt a nudge in his ribs and realized he'd been caught staring. Though, who could blame him? The persocon had been drop-dead gorgeous, with flame-red hair and a perfect figure. If she'd been real, she would have certainly been a top model, or something equally suited to beauty like that. 

As he turned back around, he saw Yuzuriha pouting, arms folded under her breasts. Right. Not the best time to be looking at those. Glancing at her face, he was surprised to find that her attention was not on him, but still on the couple. "Look at them!" She huffed, clearly disapproving. "And in public too…" Curled up by her side, Inuki let out a short half-bark, as if agreeing with his mistress. 

Raising an eyebrow, Fuuma resumed his meal, popping the remaining rice ball into his mouth. "It's not a big deal, Yuzuriha-chan." He said around his mouthful of food. "She wasn't sitting in his lap or anything." Though that would have been a sight to see… 

The black-haired girl shook her head sadly. "It's not that, Monou-san." She petted her dog idly, turning toward him with a piercing gaze. "Why do men like persocons like that?" 

Fuuma stammered, trying to come up with a response that wouldn't get him slapped. "Um.. she's pretty?" No! His inner voice railed against him. Wrong answer! 

Instead of becoming irritated, Yuzuriha simply nodded, shoulders slumping. "That's right." She seemed resigned to the fact. "That persocon's prettier than any real girl can be." She said, glumly poking at her food. "How do you compete with perfection?" 

On the way home, Fuuma considered Yuzuriha's comments. They'd spent a long time chatting about work, school, and his soccer team; he'd even managed to fully endear himself to Inuki with a rousing game of fetch, but it was clear by the end of the date that the mood was only a shade of what it had been at the beginning. 

Personally, Fuuma was stunned that someone as cute and sweet as Yuzuriha had inferiority issues with persocons. After all, they were only computers, and she was a living, breathing person! There was no comparison. Real was better by far. 

"Still…" 

Even as those thoughts entered his mind, his fingers tingled with the memory of the touch of his own persocon. Sometimes, he had to remind himself that Kamui wasn't a real boy, because his senses were constantly fooled. 

In this day and age, it wasn't unheard of to have couples like the ones in the park; he even remembered a news story a year or two ago that had some guy actually marrying one. Fuuma found it hard to believe that you could love a computer that much, but he guessed it was possible. After all, Imonoyama-san had even warned him against such a thing. 

The whole issue was very difficult to resolve. He wondered if it would be so hard had he still been without a persocon of his own. Two weeks ago, he would have never considered becoming attracted to one. Sure, some of the female models were downright sexy, but they were machines! Nice packaging, but nothing inside but a program. Programs didn't feel. 

Chuckling softly, he let himself in the house. "I should remember that too." 

"Fuuma?" His father called from the kitchen. "Is that you?" 

Toeing his shoes off, Fuuma poked his head in the door. "Yeah, it's just me." 

Father looked up from his newspaper. "Have you seen Kamui?" 

Now that was something he didn't need to hear. "Did you look up in my room?" 

"He isn't there." Father appeared concerned that his son didn't know where his belongings were. Had he not been feeling the same concern, Fuuma would have snorted. It was hard to keep track of a cute, inquisitive, computer with legs. "He left around noon, after he finished the laundry." 

Fuuma's heart skipped a beat. Noon had been five hours ago. Even if Kamui were to get hopelessly, irrevocably lost - something Fuuma doubted was even possible - he would have been back by now. The neighborhood wasn't that big, for crying out loud! With the onset of fall, the sun was setting earlier by the day, and Fuuma didn't want to think about the little persocon wandering around in the dark. 

Father frowned. "I think he did something to the washer too. It isn't working right." 

Nodding absently, Fuuma headed back out to the foyer, a gnawing urgency growing in his stomach. "I'll go look for him." 

So much for not being attached. 


	10. Kamui Makes a Mess

_I know I promised more frequent updates on this fic, I apologize. This chapter is dedicated to Aishuu, who gave me some very good advice when I felt like dropping this fic all together. I would also like to thank each and every one of you who have reviewed this story, whether it's been once or several times. I enjoy writing this fic, but it's really you guys who keep it coming. Thanks again, guys. Hope this chapter measures up to your expectations. ^^_

**Digital Revelation**

Chapter 10 - Kamui Makes a Mess 

"Right this way, Kamui-san." 

Agreeably, Kamui followed the nice blonde man. Without question, he was excited about his new job. He would make money and give it to Fuuma, which would mean that Fuuma could stop working so hard. Recently, he'd noticed darkish circles under his owner's eyes and that was simply unacceptable. 

The man led him up a narrow, steep staircase to a storefront with blackened windows. He made Kamui wait outside while he popped into the store to see if everything was ready. While he waited, Kamui glanced around at the area, taking in the details. He'd never been to his part of the city before. Just visible around the corner of the building was a sign framed in blinking red lights. Though he couldn't make out what was written on the sign, he was intrigued by the lights' patterns. They were flashing in such a way as to make them seem to move in a circle. He wondered if there was a way he could get closer to see the lights and see if they were really moving. He took one step down the stairs when the man popped back out. 

"You're not leaving us, are you, Kamui-san?" 

Kamui turned and shook his head and pointed. "The lights—" 

"Ah yes," the man said, gently tugging on Kamui's arm to pull him inside. "We're all set for you, Kamui-san. If you'll follow me." The man urged him onward, toward a door at the end of the hall. The man pushed open the door. "Now, go in and sit down, and we'll get started." Before Kamui could protest, the man gave him a nudge in the door and closed it behind him. 

The room's interior was very, very pink. Above his head hung a lamp that emitted a soft white light. Glancing around this new place, Kamui noticed that there were no corners. The room had been constructed in a circle. Every four feet, a small screen was set into the wall just above the floor. Curious as to what lay beyond those screens, Kamui crouched in front of one, his nose almost pressed to the lattice. He could see the faintest movement as he poked the metal, and he blinked. 

"Kamui-san," a voice appeared out of nowhere and Kamui jumped, skittering back from the screen. Looking around the room, he couldn't see anyone. "Please come away from there." He recognized the voice as belonging to the man, but he was still totally confused. Where was it coming from? 

"Where?" 

He heard a soft laugh come from above him. "I'm in another room, Kamui-san," the man explained. "I'm talking to you through the intercom. Please go over to the stool and sit down." 

"Who is there?" Kamui asked, pointing to the screen as he backed up and made his way to the stool. 

"Those are our clients. They're here to see you." Out of nowhere, like the voice before, a soft music began to play. Kamui shook his head and said nothing more. This place just didn't make any sense. Disembodied voices and strange, caged clients. . . he'd ask Fuuma all about it later. Fuuma would be able to explain it in a way Kamui could understand. Having nothing else to do, he took his place on the stool. 

"Very good, Kamui-san. Now, the clients are especially interested in your design. So, if you would please remove your pants and socks. Slowly." 

--- 

"Kaichou." 

Impossible. 

"Kaichou…" 

Nokoru frowned in a way that could be considered 'dark.' He was facing a complete and total dead end on the Kamui question. This, of course, was entirely unacceptable. There had to be someplace else to look. Someone else to ask. 

He'd run a search on both women in the picture, posting cropped images of them in strategic areas of the Web, and had come up empty-handed. He tapped his fan against his cheek with one hand, his other hand playing with the frayed tassel dangling from the sandalwood. Someone knew who those women were, no one in life was so easily hidden from the public, nor so easily forgotten. Whoever knew simply hadn't been contacted yet. 

Or they weren't talking. 

In frustration, the blonde boy slammed his fan down on the table in an uncharacteristic display of emotion. He hated being in the dark. And this problem was of the deepest pitch. 

"KAICHOU!" 

Nokoru blinked, turning to glance at Suoh with a startled expression on his face. "Yes?" 

His blue-haired persocon shared a look of total exasperation with Akira, who merely shrugged. Suoh directed his gaze back toward his creator. "I just picked up a signal that you are going to want to see." 

Sitting up a little bit straighter, Nokoru gestured to the television monitor expectantly. Suoh sighed and connected himself to the screen and turned it on. 

Nokoru coughed. Loudly. The image was fuzzy, but had all the makings of something even his worldly mind had been privileged to have avoided. "Suoh," he began carefully. "Are your filters working correctly?" 

Before the persocon could answer, and the response was looking to be an extremely peeved one, Akira gasped in shock. "Kamui-san!" 

Moving closer to the screen, Nokoru scrutinized the video feed. And felt his heart sink. Monou-san's persocon sat in the middle of the candy-colored room, half of his clothing on the floor around him. He was currently fighting with his necktie, which refused to come off. Silently, Nokoru thanked whatever god was listening that Kamui did not understand how a sliding knot worked. 

"Do you know where this is coming from?" 

"Contacting Monou-san now." Suoh responded. After a moment, he shook his head. "There is no answer at his home." 

Sighing, Nokoru tapped his chin with his fan. "Call Arisugawa-san, please." 

--- 

"Where the hell IS he?" Fuuma gasped, leaning against a lamppost. He'd searched the entire neighborhood, stopping anyone he could find and asking them about Kamui. A fair amount of shop owners admitted to seeing him, but it had been hours ago. With the stitch in his side making breathing painful, Fuuma grumbled furiously to himself. He could believe very easily that Kamui had wandered out of the neighborhood. After all, he couldn't remember telling Kamui to stay close to home. Stupid. 

How on earth was he supposed to find Kamui when the little persocon had a several-hour head start on him? Pushing off the post, he resumed his jog through the busy downtown streets. 

He'd stopped several short children, then apologized profusely to their parents, before hearing a familiar voice, although not the one he expected. 

"Arisugawa-san, please wait up!" Fuuma whirled at the sound of his sister's voice, catching sight of her coming out of the arcade just a few meters ahead of him. He watched her as she ran to catch up with the now-stopped Sorata, his eyes narrowing. What was she doing out on a school night? He wondered, picking up his pace to follow the pair as they meandered down the sidewalk. He couldn't catch what the Kansai boy said to his sister, but she looked momentarily shocked, then burst into giggles, covering her mouth with her hands. 

What was she doing with _Sorata_, of all people? He crept up behind them, managing to stay only a few steps behind. 

"So, I told Takahashi-sensei," Sorata was saying. Fuuma watched as Arashi climbed up onto her owner's shoulder and position herself beside his ear. Said owner had failed to notice her. "It couldn't have been /me/ who'd thrown the chalk, 'cause I--" 

"SORA-CHAN!" 

The punch line of the story was cut off by Sorata's pained squawk as he clapped his hands over his ears. Arashi clung to his jacket, though from his vantage point, Fuuma could have sworn she looked pleased with herself. 

Sorata turned tearful eyes on the mobile unit. "Nee-chaaaaaaaaaan…" he whined. 

"You have an incoming call." Arashi responded primly. 

Rubbing his ear, Sorata gestured for her to connect. 

"Arisugawa-san?" Fuuma recognized this new voice as well. He wondered what Nokoru wanted with Sorata so late in the evening. He would have thought it was past the kid's bedtime or something. 

"Yo, Nokoru-san! What can I do for you?" Sorata, it seemed, didn't find the call odd. 

"Is Monou-san with you?" 

Sorata glanced at Kotori, perplexed. "I'd hope not," he said. "What do you want him for?" 

There was a pause on the line as Nokoru hesitated. "There's a problem with Kamui-san…" 

Both Sorata and Kotori let out yelps of surprise as Fuuma nearly plowed them both over in his zeal to grab ahold of Arashi. "What?" He demanded, reminded of his mission by the name of his persocon. "What's wrong with him?" 

If Nokoru had been similarly taken off guard by Fuuma's sudden appearance, he didn't mention it. "We picked up a video feed with him in it." Nokoru did pause then, hesitating once again before pushing forward. "Monou-san, why is he working at a peep show?" 

A long pause followed the question. 

"He's WHAT?!" 

--- 

Kamui freed the final button on his shirt and let it slide down off his shoulders, just like the man's voice told him. It pooled at his feet with a soft rustle, lying atop his discarded pants, socks and that awful tie. When he got home, he would ask Kotori not to put him in neckties anymore. The man had gotten impatient with him when he'd had such a hard time getting it undone. He didn't want that to happen next time. 

As he'd taken off his clothing, he'd started hearing little noises from behind the screens, sounds he'd guessed were good, since the man had kept telling him what a good job he was doing. The praise had made him happy; if he did his work well, maybe they'd let him model all the time. 

"Now, Kamui-san," the man piped up, the voice floating down from the ceiling speakers. "Slide your hand into your underwear, and play with yourself." 

Kamui blinked. "Play?" He repeated, his fingers stalled at the waistband of his underwear. This was yet another thing he didn't understand. Playing was for toys or sports. He was all by himself, how was he supposed to play? 

"Yes, play." The man's voice was gaining that edge of impatience again. Biting his lip, Kamui started to push his fingers past the elastic. 

"No." 

Kamui startled as a different voice, once very similar to his own, breathed in his ear. He looked over his shoulder, but there was no one. 

To his side, the door to the room opened enough to allow the blonde man to enter, then snapped shut. The man appeared to be upset as he hurried across the room to Kamui. "Don't you understand, Kamui-san?" 

Wide-eyed and confused, Kamui shook his head. Sighing, the man stood at his side, pressed up against his shoulder. One of the man's larger hands took hold of Kamui's and plunged them both into his underwear. Kamui wriggled against him; something about this wasn't right. 

"Stop him." 

There the voice was again, the voice he knew he'd heard before, but could not remember where. The man's fingers inched downward, the other hand grabbing his knee and spreading his legs open. "N..no.." Kamui whimpered, his protest falling on deaf ears. 

Suddenly, everything froze. The man stopped moving, the music and the other noises abruptly shut off. 

Kamui felt a touch on his other shoulder and turned to see /Kamui/ at his other side. His reflection was clad in all black, the shirt he wore was covered in shiny silver buckles. A pair of tight, shiny pants began where the shirt stopped, the only differentiating factor being the change in material. Combined with the pure fury burning in his violet eyes, the whole effect came across as very intimidating. For a moment, Kamui was certain that neither /Kamui/ nor the man were safe. 

Behind his eyes, he saw Fuuma's face and whispered his owner's name. He wanted the boy to come and save him. 

/Kamui's/ eyes narrowed sharply as he reached across the terrified persocon and violently wrenched the man's hand away. Kamui watched as the force of the separation sent the man toppling to the floor. Then a pair of gentle fingers coaxed his face away from the man, bringing him to gaze into those intense eyes. When Kamui broke out into a fit of trembling, the other brought their lips together in a soft kiss, then folded him into his arms, stroking his hair. 

"It's all right, Kamui." He said, the soothing tone belying the anger in the face Kamui could no longer see. "You're safe now. But you can't let anyone touch us there," /Kamui/ continued, pulling back so their eyes met. 

"What happen?" 

/Kamui/ touched his cheek. "It turns us off." He said softly. "And we'll never wake up again." 

Kamui's eyes widened as his mind prompted all sorts of horrible things that would cause. He wouldn't be able to do the laundry again, or help Kotori make dinner… 

He'd never see Fuuma again. 

/Kamui/ embraced him again, his fingers once again threading through his hair. "Don't worry," he whispered. "I won't let that happen. 

Ever." 

--- 

Fuuma, Sorata and Kotori had just rounded the corner to the "Pleasure Parlor" – What had Kamui been thinking, letting himself be taken to a place like that?! – when the front of the building blew out into the street. All three of them staggered as the ground rocked below their feet. Sorata swore and pulled Kotori out of the way of falling brick as Fuuma felt his heart tighten in his chest. Kamui. 

"Monou-san, what happened?" Nokoru's tinny voice called from Arashi's connection. 

Fuuma scanned the dust in the air for any sign of his persocon. "Something happened up there!" He shouted back, scrambling for the staircase, his level of panic on a very quick rise. He would never forgive himself if something had happened to Kamui. He couldn't imagine what had led the persocon to this place besides the possibility of employment, and that left him with a massive feeling of guilt in and of itself. If Kamui was somehow hurt… 

He didn't want to think about it. 

"Monou, look!!" Sorata's voice rose above the gathering noise of the crowd, turning him around just in time to see a slight figure wrapped in a white sheet leap from the building, hopping from one lamppost to another. He couldn't mistake that mop of black hair and those ears. 

"Kamui!" He called, but the persocon paid him no attention, moving further and further away. Ignoring whatever Sorata and Kotori might have shouted at him, he took off in pursuit. 

The night air burned in his lungs as his run grew steadily slower, already worn out from all of the running around he did in searching for Kamui. He swore under his breath as he lost sight of Kamui, stumbling to a halt. "Imonoyama-san, can you trace him?" He couldn't lose him. Not when he could be hurt. Or scared. 

Dammit, Kamui needed him right now, and he couldn't even get to him to help. 

"I found him, Monou-san," Nokoru replied after a moment. "Feeding the directions to Arashi right now." 

"Thanks," Fuuma managed as the line was disconnected in favor of giving Arashi back her control. She glanced up at him with a faintly worried expression. 

"Turn left, Monou-san." 

Getting a fresh burst of energy from somewhere, Fuuma took off down the street. Arashi continued to direct him, bringing him out into the small park outside of the Meiji Shrine. The open space was full of people milling around, some shouting, others running around in confusion. Distantly, he heard a screech of tires and then a crash as two cars collided off to his right. "Where to now, Arashi?" When he received no response, he looked down at his hand. 

Sorata's persocon stared blankly up at him, unmoving. He shook her gently, frantically hoping that in his zeal to get to Kamui, he hadn't accidentally crushed her or something. 

It was then that he began to hear what people were actually shouting about. All around him, citizens of Tokyo were calling to their persocons, who had all frozen in their steps, unwilling to be moved. Some had halted in the middle of the streets, stopping traffic and causing the crash he'd heard. All of them had the same blank look in their eyes. A sudden swell of voices brought his eyes up to the top of one of the lampposts. 

He watched, mouth hanging open as Kamui alighted, giving off a soft but noticeable glow as an unseen wind swirled the sheet around him and tugged at his hair. Fuuma had seen that light before, when he'd activated the persocon. He had no idea what caused it now. "Kamui!" 

Not surprisingly, Kamui didn't respond to his call. His persocon carried the same look as the rest of them, though every so often, Fuuma though he saw a spark of activity in the solid purple eyes. Stuffing Arashi into his front pocket, he rushed through the crowd, trying to get closer to the lamppost. Despite the futility of it, he kept calling Kamui's name. 

Suddenly, the glow faded, as unexplained in its dimming as it had been when it had existed. There was a faint flicker of intelligence in Kamui's eyes before they closed. The wind stopped. 

And Kamui plummeted. 

Fuuma barely arrived in time to catch him as he fell, cradling the motionless persocon in his arms as he tried to get him to wake up. All around him, the machines that had frozen came back to life. The slight disruption ended, most of the people resumed their lives, relieved to have their possessions back. In his pocket, Arashi came back to life, he felt her stir and shake her little head as if waking from a dream. 

Only Kamui remained still. There was an unexpected tightness making Fuuma's chest hurt as he looked down at him. 

"Kamui… please wake up…." 


	11. Nokoru Tells a Story

_A longer chapter, teeming with exposition! Lots of dialogue, fluff (are we surprised, not really) and not a lot of action. It's necessary, I promise, and Chapter 12 is probably more interesting than this one. I didn't anticipate at the beginning for Nokoru to have such a large role, though considering how much ink Minoru received, it's hardly a surprise. But truthfully, I have a soft spot for Nokoru, this incarnation and the original, so I'm not too upset that I got to give him some more character development. ^^_

**Digital Revelation**

Chapter 11 - Nokoru Tells a Story 

Fuuma had honestly forgotten how heavy his persocon could be without all the technological gadgets helping to shift the weight. He, Kotori and Sorata were exhausted by the time they returned to the Tokagushi shrine. None of them had much to say during the trip, each lost within his or her own thoughts. Strange, for two of the most talkative people he knew, but Fuuma had more to worry about at the moment than the pair's uncharacteristic silence. He chalked it up to the weirdness of the evening and left it at that. 

During the hour that passed between the persocon freeze-up and the arrival home, and Kamui failed to even stir. 

Sorata eventually took his leave, once he was sure the Monou siblings could handle themselves. Kotori walked him to the door and thanked him for his help while had Fuuma struggled to get his precious burden upstairs. He'd barely heard his sister wish him good night, offering some quiet assurances that everything would turn out all right. 

Fuuma couldn't help wondering what he'd do if Kamui had shorted out completely. He'd been prepared to scold the little persocon up and down for getting wrapped up in a strip show; he'd planned out his criticism and had even contemplated punishment since Kamui had done exactly what he'd told him _not_ to. All of it had vanished in the white light explosion that'd sent him chasing Kamui halfway through downtown Tokyo. All he wanted now was to have him back. 

Once again, he began to wonder how he managed to get so attached to something that was little more than memory chips and wire. As he sat on the bed, watching Kamui's face for some kind of movement or flicker of life – "life" being a dicey word to use with a computer – Fuuma considered Nokoru's warning again. Kamui would break his heart if he became too fond of him. It was so clear and yet he'd managed to ignore it time and again, perhaps risking it since the pain hadn't happened yet. 

Just before dawn, as Fuuma dozed at the bedside, Kamui moved. 

The small hand curled around the hem of Fuuma's shirt, tugging gently until Fuuma jerked awake. Kamui smiled at him. 

"Good morning, Fuuma." 

At that moment, Kamui benefited from being a machine. The strength of Fuuma's hug would probably have seriously injured him had he been human. 

--- 

"Monou-san," Yuzuriha cried out in panic. "Watch out!" 

Turning too quickly, Fuuma managed to plow right into an entering customer. Wincing, he apologized even as he heard the glasses from his tray shatter all over the floor. Then he heard his boss start yelling and Yuzuriha's voice rise as she attempted to placate her grandmother. 

The day which had started out so well had rapidly descended into total chaos. Fuuma learned quickly that adrenaline brought about by sleep depravation wasn't enough to sustain him at work. Neither, apparently, was the euphoria that had buoyed him along long after Kamui had woken. 

Thank the gods it was almost over. 

He heard his boss rail on, declaring that he'd be paying for those glasses, as well as the dozen or so he'd already dropped, with his own wages. Sighing, there wasn't much he could do besides nod and stoop to pick up the shards before someone hurt themselves on them. To his surprise, the customer bent with him and picked up the jagged pieces with delicate hands. "You look like you've had a rough day, Fuuma-kun." Fuuma looked up into the face of Magami Tokiko, the head nurse at his school. She smiled at him and continued to place glass on his tray, moving so deftly that not a cut appeared on that white skin. "Let me give you a hand." 

Embarrassed, all he could do was swallow the protests he knew she wouldn't accept. "Ne, Magami-sensei--" 

"Tokiko, please." She continued to smile through her round frames. "Let's leave the formalities for school." Placing the last bit of glass on his tray, she brushed her hands together carefully and stood. 

"Tokiko…san," Fuuma continued, straightening as well. "How did you know my name?" He couldn't remember having to go to the nurse's station enough for her to feel so well acquainted with him. 

She laughed. "When I transferred to your school, Fuuma-kun, I made a point to try and learn the names of all the students." She tapped her temple, winking at him. "I'm still working on it, but since you're one of the stand-outs on the soccer team, you made it easy for me." 

Fuuma relaxed a little, her easy manner making it simple. "Where would you like to sit, Tokiko-san?" He gestured to the nearly empty restaurant, pointedly not looking in the direction of the guests whose beer was now all over the floor. 

"Well," she began, tapping her chin with a long finger. "A window seat would be nice, I think." 

As he showed her to a clean table, the bell above the door rang, prompting a bellow of "irrasshai" from his boss. Fuuma glanced up when he heard the greeting echoed, stifling an exasperated smile as Kamui waved happily from the foyer. Tokiko followed his gaze, her eyes widening with some surprise when she looked on the little persocon. 

"Kamui-chan..." 

Fuuma blinked. "You know Kamui, Tokiko-san?" 

She nodded, pushing her hair off her shoulders. "He came to school one day to pick you up," she explained. "We had a very nice conversation." 

As Fuuma went to put in the order for her meal, he ran into Yuzuriha. "Obaachan's so mad," she hissed urgently, looking over her shoulder to see if said woman could hear her. "I can take care of the customers, you might want to hurry out of here." 

He hastily thanked the girl, handing her his remaining checks and hurrying off to the back room to change out of his uniform. It was just as well, since Kamui was there to walk home with him. Given the nature of the persocon's personality, leaving him unsupervised for any bit of time was risky. Especially after last night. 

Fuuma pulled his t-shirt over his head, mechanically going through the motions of changing while his mind wandered. Kamui didn't remember anything past being in the strip show – what he related about the "modeling job" made Fuuma want to beat that guy into a pulp – and had simply given Fuuma a blank look of confusion when he'd pressed about the rest. Fuuma couldn't decide if he preferred it that way or not; he didn't really want Kamui to remember how to do... whatever it had been that he'd done. Beyond the safety implications for the city, the whole experience had been _creepy_. 

Shouldering his backpack, he reemerged into the restaurant proper and was caught by surprise to see Tokiko taking her lunch to go while speaking animatedly with Kamui. When the persocon noticed him, he waved again, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Fuuma worked hard today," he chirped as Fuuma ruffled his hair gently. 

"You're the only one who thinks so, Kamui," he answered wryly, prompting a smile from Tokiko. He looked down at his persocon and raised an eyebrow. "Ready to go home?" 

"Actually, Fuuma-kun," Tokiko began. "I was wondering if I could ask you something." Fuuma turned an expectant gaze on her, his hand stilling on Kamui's shoulder. With a balancing act that bespoke of long practice, she managed to pay her bill, shoulder her purse and hold two bags of food upright... all without looking the least bit overtaxed. "I was wondering if maybe I could help you out?" 

"I'm not sure what you're talking about, Tokiko-san," he answered, genuinely confused. 

"Well, I couldn't help overhearing that you're about to have some money troubles, if you don't have them already." She cast a knowing look in Kamui's direction, as if that said it all. Which it did. Persocons were expensive. And so were beer glasses. 

Still, he was hesitant to accept charity. "What did you have in mind?" 

She laughed. "I'm sure you wouldn't accept a loan, Fuuma-kun, to help out with Kamui-chan's upkeep. But I have a nephew about his size..." she quirked an eyebrow. "Would you let me donate some clothing for him?" 

And so, a half an hour later, Fuuma and Kamui found themselves inside Tokiko's apartment, seated on her couch, while she rummaged around in her bedroom for the clothing. Kamui, per usual, glanced around at everything, taking in as many details as possible, committing it all to memory. Fuuma had his head propped on his hand and settled to watch Kamui, still hemming and hawing over the previous night. Maybe he would give Nokoru a call; the boy genius should be able to explain the basics of what happened, if not the "why." 

"Okay boys," Tokiko called as she emerged from the bedroom, carrying a large box and dumping it at their feet. "This is what I have." She smiled at Kamui, who regarded her with curiosity. "You can pick out anything you want, Kamui-chan, and you get to take it home with you." 

Kamui turned to Fuuma hesitantly, as if to ask if this was all right. Fuuma nodded and was happy to take a backseat while Kamui pawed through the pile of clothing. The little persocon attended to the task with the utmost concentration, using a method of selection Fuuma couldn't decipher. He was just glad Kamui hadn't gone for some of the more... interesting pieces of clothing. Kamui held up a shiny black shirt that was more buckles than material, contemplating it intensely for a moment before setting it aside, much to Fuuma's relief. An outfit like that would undoubtedly bring around more perverted losers. 

Once Kamui had an armload large enough to satisfy Tokiko, she ushered him into the bedroom so he could try everything on. Fuuma checked his watch, hoping they had enough time for this before they had to get back home. While Kamui and Tokiko were gone, Fuuma poked through the clothing on his own, for something to do. He began to wonder what kind of guy this nephew was; judging by some of the wild stuff in the pile, he'd probably been a handful. The majority of that which Kamui left behind consisted of fabrics that had never existed in nature and would probably melt if exposed to direct sunlight. 

He glanced up as the bedroom door opened and Tokiko led Kamui into the living room, parading him around like a prized dog at a show. He wondered why women seemed to see Kamui as their doll and if all persocon appeared that way to them. For his part, Kamui seemed to enjoy the attention, holding his arms out when directed to show off the simple white button down shirt and blue jeans. Fuuma nodded approvingly and the pair disappeared back inside the bedroom. 

So it went for a while, one outfit after another until Fuuma felt like one of those old-fashioned bobble-head dolls. Everything he was shown seemed fine, he wasn't sure why they needed his opinion. Kamui had chosen tops and pants that could have been found on anyone walking outside, and had been particularly excited by the fact that he'd found a school uniform in the pile, so he could now be "like Fuuma." Beyond that, everything had been simple, agreeable and ultimately forgettable. The door opened for what seemed like the billionth time and he was greeted by Tokiko's voice gaily announcing that this outfit would be the last one. Fuuma sat up a little straighter. 

And he felt his jaw sag as she ushered a suddenly shy Kamui into view. All the other clothing had run strictly conservative, tasteful and pretty much all-purpose. However, Tokiko had apparently chosen to leave the outrageous for the finale. 

Kamui's last choice consisted of a snow white top, accented by gold buckles at his throat and several down his forearms. The material shimmered in the lamplight, catching the varying shades of silver, grey and metallic white that was woven into the fabric. His pants were a soft, shiny white material. Overall, the effect was excellent. 

He smiled shyly at Fuuma. "Is okay?" 

Brushing a hand through his hair, stalling to be able to close his mouth and collect his thoughts, Fuuma glanced down to the floor and saw the black top Kamui had discarded. The two shirts were identical, save for color. White and gold for one, black and silver for the other. He wondered why Kamui had picked one over the other. Looking back up at Kamui, he nodded for the last time. "It's nice, Kamui." He smiled when Kamui beamed, twirling around as Tokiko had shown him to do with the other outfits. "Where are you going to wear it?" 

Kamui paused. "Not outside." He decided. "Inside. For Fuuma." 

Tokiko laughed and shooed Kamui back into the bedroom with orders to change back into his street clothes, turning back to collect the remainders of clothing. Fuuma slid off the couch to help her out. He'd been wanting to ask her something anyway. "Tokiko-san, are you sure your nephew won't mind us taking his clothes?" 

One delicate hand stilled over some shirts before resuming its careful work. Tokiko's smile contained volumes, though all Fuuma was able to decipher was the sorrow. "My nephew..." she couldn't seem to find the words she needed; this was the first time in their acquaintance that Fuuma had ever seen her look so sad and lost. "My nephew doesn't live with me anymore, Fuuma-kun." 

"Oh." Fuuma inwardly chided himself for tramping all over a sensitive subject. "I'm sorry." 

After a moment, her expression brightened and she nodded. "Thank you, Fuuma-kun," she said, gathering the box in her arms. "And about the clothing, I think he would have been overjoyed to help you out. He was our little angel." 

Before Fuuma could say anything else, Kamui rejoined them, carrying a huge plastic bag full of his new things. Tokiko smiled at him and shifted the box to one hip so she could smooth down a few stray hairs. Kamui beamed at her, bowing graciously, as Kotori had taught him weeks and weeks ago. "Thank you very much, Tokiko-san." 

The older woman returned the bow and Fuuma gently pulled Kamui out of the apartment, quietly bidding her thanks and good bye. 

--- 

"Kaichou," the little black haired persocon chirped. Nokoru raised his head and gave Akira one of his best smiles. As ever, his companion returned it, all bubbles and light and happiness. "I made tea for you and Monou-san." 

The youngest of the Imonoyama zaibatsu's genius children nodded, shifting the picture in his hand to the desk in order to accept a fine china cup. Appropriately, Suoh returned with the guest in question, the ever-awed Monou Fuuma. Nokoru afforded him a polite smile and prepared his tea, waiting for the older boy to settle on the sofa across from the desk. A cursory glance at the youth fit in with what he'd assumed, given the events of the past few days. Arisugawa had been particularly forthcoming when he'd asked for details of Kamui's disappearance and strange behavior. Monou-san's eyes were full of questions, inquiries far from the mundane worries of operating systems and software upgrades. They'd moved past that, as Nokoru had feared they might. While there appeared to be no record of Kamui's existence, a machine that heavily protected gave off far too many warning signs. 

Nokoru also confirmed what Arisugawa had speculated upon: Monou-san had not heeded his advice. 

"Welcome, Monou-san." The youth seemed a bit startled to be addressed, lost as he was in his own thoughts. Nokoru smiled, flipping out his fan. The characters for "it's been a while" appeared in black over the crisp white paper. "I hope you and Kamui-san are well?" 

Monou-san shrugged, pushing a hand through his hair. "For now, I guess, Nokoru-san," he allowed. "Things have been kind of weird, but I'm sure you know all about it." 

"I wish I knew more, Monou-san," he said lightly. "But Suoh won't let me do any research before I complete my paperwork." He felt a surge of impish glee when the blue-haired persocon shot him a withering glare. Laughing, he held up the photograph. "But, he will let me look into this one thing that might help me along." 

The mention of new information was, as designed, enough to pique Monou-san's interest. He took the picture in both hands, gingerly holding it up to the light for scrutiny. It didn't take long for the recognition to dawn on his face. "Tokiko-san," he breathed, eyes widening. 

This, Nokoru hadn't really expected. "You know these women, Monou-san?" He asked, sharing a perplexed glance with Suoh. Out of all the possible people to have come into contact with the sisters, Monou-san hadn't been on the list. Interesting. 

The older boy looked up at them, shaking his head. "Only one of them," he corrected, scrutinizing the image further. "She's the head nurse at school. Magami Tokiko." His surprise multiplied as he finally recognized the slim figure of his persocon in the background. "What's Kamui doing there?" 

It was Nokoru's turn to shake his head as he steepled his fingers together on top of his desk. "I don't know for sure yet," he confessed. "I assume they were his original owners, maybe even his creators—" he noticed Monou-san's eyes doing that glazing over thing that they had done when he'd first met Nokoru. The other was trying to comprehend that things in his life that had seemed so normal possibly weren't. "But until you told me Magami-san's name, I hadn't any leads on their identities." His smile was thin as he took the photo back. "The online community is being curiously tight-lipped about the subject." 

As sure as day followed night, however, the grimness in his expression was replaced by exuberance. "But," he exclaimed happily, opening his fan to read "progress." "I'm sure the answers we're looking for are close at hand, now that you've given me this bit of information." He felt a surge of excitement bubble up in his chest, though he was careful to keep from jumping out of his chair. This query had taken weeks of his attention, weeks he'd spent putting up with Suoh's sidelong glances and scolding, weeks of letting paperwork stack up — though that was far from unusual – and he was especially looking forward to seeing the results of this search. It could be conceivable that most people, even some in his own family, would consider a persocon's identity crisis to be beneath him, but beyond it being something to occupy him, he honestly sympathized with Monou-san and Kamui. He would like to see this through to the end. 

And there was also that curious blackout to consider now. Somehow, Kamui seemed to be tied to it, making this investigation all the more pertinent. He smiled brightly at Monou-san. "It's all right under our noses now." 

The relief on Monou-san face was palatable and he grinned back, undoubtedly thankful to be able to put this behind him and move on with his life. Akira moved around him, picking up cups and saucers and tidying up the space. "This calls for cake!" 

"Kaichou," Suoh began. "You have a meeting with Ohkawa-kaichou in twenty—" 

The fan snapped open again, this time reading "Party!" "Akira has prepared cake for us," he explained patiently. "We can't very well tell him no, now can we?" 

"That cake was for your meeting—" 

"I'm sure Ohkawa-kaichou will understand that we had a reason to celebrate today, Suoh!" Nokoru's left eye had developed a rather pronounced tic as he pinned his persocon with an intense look that even Suoh seemed reluctant to challenge. His demeanor toward Akira was sufficiently sweeter when he turned his attention to him. "Go ahead and get it, if you please." 

Akira practically bounced out of the room, happily going about his task. Nokoru watched him go, a little sigh escaping him as he thought about his upcoming birthday. Another year older… 

A quiet cough brought his attention back around to his guest, who seemed to be studying him with the utmost interest. "You spoke from experience, when you gave your advice," he said quietly. 

Nokoru closed his fan and set it gently on top of the desk, turning to Suoh before attempting to respond to Monou-san's rather surprising insight. "Ne, Suoh… would you go help Akira in the kitchen?" Though his blue-haired persocon might have been curious as to the sudden dismissal, he was smart enough not to question it. That was Suoh, though. Quick to fight with him on unimportant matters, but always compliant when it counted. The door closed with a soft click as the persocon left. Only then could Nokoru let the smile melt away from his face. "I did, Monou-san." 

The older boy nodded, leaning forward. "What happened?" He asked, the sympathy in his eyes ready to be offered if it came to that. 

Nokoru just laughed softly, the sound was sad and bitter and altogether unhappy. "Once upon a time, Monou-san," he began, leaning back in his chair. "There was a very important family whose reach extended all throughout Japan. And in this very important family was a little boy who, because of his age, was a target for every kidnapper, blackmailer and assassination attempt that the evildoers could muster." He smiled a bit to himself, remembering with a little bit of fondness all of the people who'd sought to take advantage of his family by trying to get their hands on him. He pitied those people in his own way; they were so jealous or intimidated by his family's power that the only way they could get by was to try and harm a defenseless child. 

He glanced at Monou-san, who seemed shocked by the idea that someone would try and kill someone so young. He envied the kind of childhood the older boy must have had, to believe that way. "Because I was such a target," he continued, dropping the sing-song timbre to simple recitation of fact. "My family didn't allow me to interact with other children. The fear was that someone might try and influence their parents to assist in their schemes. So for quite some time, I didn't have any friends at all." 

Monou-san seemed even more disquieted by this thought than he'd been by the first. Nokoru smiled just a little. "But every child needs companionship, and so, two years ago, I made my own." 

He remembered when Suoh and Akira had first been activated; right away, they had displayed such unique personalities. His programming had been so complete that the only thing the two persocon had in common was their devotion to him. "I designed their programs to build off of their core personalities, so while I know each one of them better than they do, they can still surprise me sometimes. And neither of them is anything like me, either." His tone had turned wistful, he must have appeared much younger to Monou-san as he related his tale. 

However, Monou-san seemed distracted by some other aspect entirely. "It sounds wonderful, Imonoyama-san… to have friends who compliment you so well." His expression was guarded. "But it's only because you made them that way, ne?" 

Nokoru nodded, happily giving Monou-san more credit for his intelligence than he'd previously doled out. Not that he believed the boy to be stupid, just not analytical. "Exactly; they're my best friends because I told them to be. Deep down, they'll never disagree with me because the heart of a persocon is not friendship but servitude." He glanced down at the desk top, absently fingering a picture of himself and Suoh that one of their devoted fans had taken. Suoh had hated the idea and refused to look at the camera, while Nokoru smiled on and indulged the upperclassman in her fancy. Suoh hated having his picture taken because such little things took time away from important things. Things that were important simply because there was a tiny chip down inside of him that said so. 

Everything he had told Monou-san was true and he accepted it, but it was fresh salt on the wound by bringing it out into the open. "And as a human being, I'm going to grow up." Here was the most difficult aspect to talk about, the part that hurt the most. "I'll get taller, my voice will change… everything about me will have matured. Suoh and Akira will stay exactly the same as they are." 

He recognized some of the discomfort in his guest's eyes as Monou-san turned those words inward and made them personal. No doubt he was thinking about Kamui, and how those boyish features would seem to him in the coming years. It wasn't something human beings liked to think about, once that had invested so much time, energy and capital into their "companions." And those who had thrown their emotions into the bargain seemed even less willing to think about it. This was one of the reasons why the industry was barred from creating child persocon, though the market for the was there, the sheer psychological toll would be more than the government was willing to bear. Grieving parents who wished to replace their lost child rarely considered having a five-year-old for the rest of their lives, thus negating much of the joy in having children in the first place. 

"So," Monou-san ventured. "Why not make them larger bodies?" 

Nokoru shook his head. "A temporary fix to a larger problem. I could transfer the data cores into different shells, but there would be things lost in the process." In the end, it all came down to the sheer effort of maintaining a "growing" persocon over the course of a lifetime. Every few years would bring another reminder of how his only friends were little more than plastic, metal and silicone chips. 

"But you've thought about it." 

"Of course." Nokoru pressed a hand over his eyes, suddenly weary. "When we met, I'd hoped to warn you away from emotional attachment, because you're as good a candidate for my complication as anyone else. Kamui-san is amazingly lifelike, even more so than Suoh and Akira, for all the tweaking I made to the programs." As he lowered his hand, he thought he saw Monou-san looking faintly proud. He sighed and shook his head. "It's going to bring nothing but trouble. You have to look at him like you would your microwave oven, Monou-san. It's valuable and useful and you'd be upset if you lost it." He leaned forward, his tone absolutely serious. "But you could replace it or ultimately live without it. He's a computer, Monou-san." 

The pride gave way to conflict, as if the older boy was searching for a way to make his words not apply. But in the end, he couldn't, and gave Nokoru a look that said plainly that he believed him, but might never be able to live that way. "What are you going to do?" 

Nokoru paused as his companions retuned from the kitchen, Akira trotted in carrying a tray holding a replenished tea set and two huge pieces of cake. Suoh carried nothing; it seemed his job was to instruct Akira to stop bouncing like a monkey and be more careful. Glancing back at Fuuma, he wondered if his expression was really as hopeless as the other boy's had been. "I really don't know." 


	12. Kamui Finds a Job Redux

_The chapters just keep getting longer... more happening in this chapter than in the last. Less exposition and more action of a sort. Thanks to everyone for being so patient with me while I hammer out chapters of this fic. With Chapter 12, this monster has officially surpassed my original work in number of pages. My tentative "end of April" deadline has come and gone, and there are still _maybe_ four chapters left. I'm shooting for the end of June. Let's see if I can do it. V_

**Digital Revelation**

Chapter 12 - Kamui Finds a Job (Redux) 

Laundry day came around again, as it did every week, and the washing machine was still broken. Even so, the wash had to be done, leaving the Monou family the arduous task of washing everything by hand. Kamui did the job willingly, though Kyougo promised to dig out the manual for the appliance when he came home from a meeting. Kamui hadn't read anything really technical before, so he actually was looking forward to the challenge. Maybe everyone would be a little happier when the washer was repaired. The wood on the balcony below the clothesline glistened in the morning sunshine as the water dripped off the bedding spread out to dry. Kamui pushed damp hair off his face and watched the wind blow the sheets lazily from side to side. 

He normally noticed the gloom in the house more than he took note of the happy times. The Monou family was seldom cheerless, so he felt particularly edgy when it was. As often happened, he could not determine the cause. Kyougo seemed worried about repairs, but there was something else. Fuuma became lost in his thoughts easily and sometimes forgot about Kamui altogether. Even Kotori, the most lighthearted member of the family, seemed to be upset about something. She hadn't been volunteering to pick out his clothes lately; in fact, she didn't speak to him much at all anymore. She spent a large amount of time out of the house or in her room, only appearing at mealtimes and just before she and Fuuma left for school. 

Kamui had few daily chores, certainly nothing that took up his entire day, so he had time to think about these things. 

He could hear the family begin to stir in the house behind him, prompting him to leave the wash to the fall breezes and start on breakfast. Kyougo greeted him as he came into the kitchen, reading his newspaper and sipping from a cup of tea. The Monou children enjoyed having someone around who would cook and clean for them, but Kyougo always gently insisted on doing certain things himself. He and Kamui often spent the early morning together in a companionable silence. Once in a while, Kyougo would tell him about something going on in the news, or an event that would be happening at the shrine. The man would make sure to explain carefully so that Kamui could understand. They had been doing it for so long now, he rarely had to. 

Kamui set the rice on to boil, listening to the sound of pages turning. 

"Ah, Kamui-kun," Kyougo spoke up after a moment, bringing the persocon's attention around to him. He glanced up with a smile. "There's an ad in the paper for work at a florist nearby." 

Kamui tilted his head to the side. "Florist?" 

Kyougo nodded. "Someone who sells flowers." He explained, pausing to sip his tea. "I think you would enjoy a job like that." 

"As long as they keep him away from the sharp stuff," Fuuma commented as he came into the kitchen, giving Kamui a little smile to let him know he was kidding. Sarcasm was something humans seemed to love to use. Kamui thought back on his first encounter with it with a healthy dose of chagrin. It had taken Fuuma and Arisugawa-san the better part of an hour explaining before the concept made any sense. 

This morning, however, Kamui merely grinned and continued fixing breakfast. If Fuuma thought the job was a good idea, then he would probably wind up applying for it. Kamui was perfectly happy letting Fuuma make the choices for him, considering the last time he'd done it, it ended in a very peculiar night. 

"Kamui-kun would have to go a little ways downtown," Kyougo told his son. "But the wage seems good and it wouldn't be very complicated work." 

Fuuma plopped down into one of the chairs, tapping his fingers on the table as he considered it. "Well, so long as it doesn't say 'no persocon,' we could probably go take a look today." He glanced over at Kamui. "What do you think?" 

Kamui nodded and set a tray down in front of Kyougo, then Fuuma. "Kamui likes flowers." 

After the breakfast dishes had been done and the kitchen cleaned up, Fuuma had ushered him upstairs to get dressed, patiently directing Kamui towards one of the nicer outfits Tokiko had given him. He smiled, thinking about the kind woman who had helped him so much. As he buttoned up his shirt, he caught Fuuma looking at him out of the corner of his eye. However, when he turned to ask what his owner was thinking, Fuuma glanced away and stared off into space. 

"Ne," Fuuma said after a time. "You still really want to do this?" He asked, his gaze slowly coming back toward Kamui. "Getting a job, I mean." 

Kamui hopped from one foot to another, trying to put on his socks without having to sit down. "Kamui wants job," he said with quite a bit of resolve. "Want help to Fuuma." 

The other looked at him quietly for a minute, something akin to worry in his eyes before shrugging and covering it all up with a smile. "Suits me then," he said brightly, rising to his feet. "Let's go see what we can get for you." 

They walked to the flower shop, Kamui watching everything intensely so he would remember the directions in case he had to come back. He watched the people as they walked by. He had determined that there were three types of humans, when it came to persocon. One group ignored him completely, as one would ignore a single tree in a forest or a piece of furniture. These people would talk to Fuuma and not him and they usually had persocon of their own. 

The second type had never seen a persocon before and stared openly at him, pointing and shouting things or whispering to the people next to them to keep Kamui from hearing. These people were funny, but Fuuma thought they were kind of annoying. When these people came around, Fuuma did his best to move them out of view or into a taxi cab. 

The third type of person was somewhere in between. They knew about persocon and didn't find them particularly unique, unless they were cute or attractive. Men usually stared; women squealed and came over to talk to both owner and machine. Kamui liked these women; Fuuma usually turned a little pink and tried to drag him away very quickly. 

They encountered mostly the first and third types of people on their way to the flower shop and thus arrived very quickly. The shop was tiny, sandwiched in between two buildings. Glass windows lined the front, letting Kamui see that the inside was bursting with plants and flowers of all sizes and colors. A simple sign above the door read "Earth's Gifts." The door made a jingling sound as they came in, alerting the lone shopkeeper to their presence. 

"Good morning," he called gaily from the back, stepping out from behind a bush of pretty red flowers. Kamui liked him instantly. He was tall and broad, with muscles that hinted at a previous occupation that hadn't involved flowers. His dark hair was cut short and his skin was very tan – undoubtedly from working out in the sun. His eyes, dark like his hair, smiled brightly and took attention away from the thin scar he had running down one cheek. 

Fuuma seemed to like him as well. "Good morning," he replied. "We're here about the ad in the newspaper." 

The man glanced from Fuuma to Kamui as if sizing them up. He rested a dirt-covered hand on one hip. "Well, I only need one helper," he said. "But if you really want to work together, I could probably scrounge up something." 

Laughing, Fuuma shook his head. "Good thing it's just Kamui who needs a job, then." He gestured toward his persocon. "Do you think he'd be okay, working here?" 

The man's eyes widened a little as he looked Kamui over with a little more scrutiny. "Well…" he thought aloud, rubbing his chin with a clean hand. "He'll definitely attract customers with a face like that." He looked a moment longer and nodded firmly, bending down to talk directly to Kamui. "What's your name, kid?" 

"Kamui," he said softly, a little shy when the attention was directly on him. 

The man patted him on the shoulder and straightened up. "Nice to meet you, Kamui-kun." He directed a finger at himself. "Name's Kusanagi Shiyu." He winked. "Welcome aboard." 

--- 

They had pounded on the door when they'd finally arrived. She'd taken her time answering the door, as if to make their rudeness apparent even to them. She had expected them, naturally. After the incident a week ago, it had only been a matter of time. 

Some of them bristled with importance, waving their guns and their job titles around as if they really were something special. She knew for certain that they wouldn't be allowed to kill her and so failed to be intimidated. A few of the more seasoned agents recognized her for reasons other than the dossier they'd certainly been given and had treated her with a measure of respect. 

They'd murmured apologies for their intrusion as they'd cuffed her hands and lead her down the stairs and apologized again as they guided her into the unmarked car. 

--- 

The house seemed quieter, now that Kamui worked four days out of the week. The little persocon still managed to complete all his chores, though sometimes it led him to be up very late or very early in the morning. He still had their lunches ready along with breakfast, but now the family meals were peppered with stories of his own. Kamui loved to talk about his job, and would to anyone who would listen. By default, Fuuma received an earful night after night. He didn't mind, really. Kamui had nothing negative to say about the work, and the stories were mostly about what the persocon had learned during that shift. 

The most amusing stories came about unintentionally, when Kamui would need Fuuma to explain something one of the customers had done. News of his employment had spread quickly among the girls in the neighborhood, who proceeded to mob the shop day in and day out to talk to the endearing new facet of their lives. As expected, Kamui didn't understand some of the attention. From what Fuuma could gather, he never troubled his boss with the questions, reserving all of his curiosity for his owner. 

Fuuma glanced up from his homework when he heard the downstairs door slide open, a cheerful voice announcing Kamui's arrival. Sometimes he went to pick up Kamui from work, though most of the time he was busy with his own schedule and came home hours before the other. He decided that the distance was good; it kept him from spending too much time around his persocon. He looked back sheepishly on Nokoru's advice from time to time, each time reflecting how completely he had ignored it. He wasn't sure just why he'd managed to be the only member of his family who didn't think of Kamui as an expendable luxury, but he had. The only reason that made sense was that his senses had been worn away by overexposure. 

Giving Kamui a little more independence had been worrisome at first, given how the last attempt had fared, but had been proving to be one of the best decisions he'd made concerning the persocon. Knowing he wouldn't get any more work done while Kamui tried to tell him about his day, Fuuma closed his book as light footsteps bounded up the stairs. The homework was safely stowed away by the time Kamui burst into the room, his grin enough to light up the room. 

Of course, he may have lost touch with his rational thought processes simply because Kamui was adorable. 

"Look!" Kamui held a small envelope out in front of Fuuma's face, barely restraining himself from jumping up and down. "Kusanagi-san gave to Kamui." 

Reaching up to still the happily fluttering hands, he plucked the envelope out and held it before him. The name on the envelope read _Monou Kamui_, a fact that made a strange feeling prickle in Fuuma's stomach, though he wouldn't have been able to explain why or what it was. Inside was an impressive fold of bills that drove home just how much and how hard his persocon had been working. Kamui's first paycheck was more than his had been, actually. He looked up at that brilliantly happy face and smiled back. "Congratulations, Kamui." 

If Kamui could have looked any happier than he was that moment, he managed it a second later. "For Fuuma," he said cheerfully. "To help." 

Fuuma glanced down at the money and idly thumbed through it, the prickly feeling getting stronger as a thread of guilt managed to sew itself in. Sliding the bills back into the envelope and closing it up, he handed it back to the persocon. "This is your money," he said carefully as he met Kamui's widening eyes. "You keep it, okay?" In a roundabout way, Kamui buying things he needed or wanted himself would lessen Fuuma's financial burden. Given the persocon's selfless nature, he would probably wind up buying supplies for the family anyway, since Fuuma really couldn't think of much the other had given any hint of desiring for himself. 

Kamui turned the envelope over in his hands several times, perhaps trying to puzzle out Fuuma's reasoning for returning the money he had so ardently intended to give. "Kamui have…?" 

The confusion on the other's face was enough to make Fuuma smile. "You earned it all by yourself," he explained, reaching up to brush some hair out of the persocon's eyes so Kamui could look at him. "I'd much rather see you hang onto it." 

Fuuma hadn't thought it possible for a persocon to blush, but Kamui did just then. His normally porcelain skin colored faintly pink as perfect teeth worried his lip. Then Kamui nodded suddenly, as if satisfying himself with an explanation, his mouth breaking into a shy smile. "Thank you." The voice was little more than a whisper, and then the other was darting out from under his gaze, scurrying back to the plastic bag he'd dropped on the way in. Kamui held onto his envelope tightly as he produced a slim package wrapped in brown paper, along with an unwrapped book. Inwardly, Fuuma laughed; it seemed Kamui had found something he'd wanted after all. 

He held out his hands as Kamui offered him the wrapped package, gently pulling off the tape and revealing whatever it was the little persocon had thought he would like. Kamui hovered nervously as he took his time, tugging on the lock of hair Fuuma had tucked behind his ear. He nearly fell off the bed when he saw that Kamui's gift consisted of three or four magazines with scantily clad women on the covers. He felt his face turn an uncomfortable shade of red and his answering chuckle sounded pathetic and weak at best. "Ah… thanks, Kamui," he managed as he set the magazines aside; maybe he'd look at them later. 

Coughing into his fist, he glanced up to the persocon, who seemed completely oblivious to the discomfort he'd caused. Instead, he appeared as happy as a clam. "What did you get for yourself?" He gestured to Kamui's book, and the persocon held it out for his inspection. The blue, hardback book looked like a continuation of the book he'd bought for Kamui weeks and weeks ago. This one was called "My Only Person." Strange topic for a kid's book, he thought. The long-eared rabbit-creature from the first book made a return appearance on the cover of this volume. A quick look up at Kamui told him that the persocon was itching to read it, as he kept opening the cover just a tiny bit between his fingers. 

Oh well, so long as Kamui was happy, he could read whatever he wanted. A voice from downstairs accompanied Kamui's sudden snap to attention, as if he'd just remembered something. "Ah, time to make the dinner," he announced. He gazed longingly at the book as he set it on the bed, but did not linger much longer than that before turning to hustle downstairs to conform to the daily schedule. With a slight smile, Fuuma got to his feet and followed. 

--- 

"Any luck, Kaichou?" Nokoru nearly jumped out of his chair as Akira's voice broke into his intense scrutiny of the computer monitor. The black-haired persocon blinked huge grey eyes at him as the human boy clutched at his shirt in an attempt to make sure that his heart had not stopped beating from the shock. Suoh never snuck up on him like that, only Akira. The "younger" of his two companions was always on hand, though he contributed less to most conversations than Suoh and regrettably, he was sometimes forgotten in the excitement of late. If Akira minded, however, he never showed feelings to give the thoughts away. 

Nokoru rubbed his forehead irritably. That was, of course, Akira's way. The persocon would never be upset with him, though he was regularly upset _for_ him, because it simply was not in his programming. Suoh was his bodyguard in addition to his taskmaster, and an uncharitable person could dub Akira as his nursemaid. He hadn't exactly planned for it to be that way, but he should have realized that that was how the arrangement would be. It all came back to the programs. 

And those programs had been almost constantly on his mind since his conversation with Monou-san more than a week ago. Though he would never show anyone, that fact had begun to grate at him. Typically, he could go for days at a time without acknowledging his companions' less-than-human qualities, using willful ignorance to chalk up their tendencies to read his thoughts and his desires to the fact that they were never apart. Then something would remind him of their situation and he would allow himself a modicum of angst, which he would promptly squelch and allow himself to forget again. 

Creating Suoh and Akira had to be his most brilliant idea, but it was undoubtedly the stupidest thing he had ever done. 

Not that he regretted bringing either into his life. Pushing back the frustration, he smiled warmly at Akira, who still waited patiently for an answer. "None as of yet, I'm afraid." 

In another spell of forcing himself to ignore the facts of his situation, he had convinced himself that his irritation of late was due to his inability to locate the only person who might give him some answers, Magami Tokiko. As of a week and a half ago, said woman simply ceased to exist. The school where she worked reported that she had taken a sabbatical and had left no contact information. The apartment leased in her name was empty, and her belongings had vanished. The ward office where she was registered claimed to have no records of her living in the area. After a thorough hacking of the system, he had confirmed that they hadn't been lying. 

It was enough to make him want to resort to childish fits of temper. 

He had requested his mother's permission to access the vast Imonoyama records; he believed his answer to be somewhere inside the network, but he respected his family enough to not simply break through the security and look on his own. For all his intellectual prowess, there were those in his family who were, to his sometime dismay, smarter than he. If he got in and out with the information, it would only be a matter of time before he was caught. 

Besides, an Imonoyama was patient. To show any outward anxiety would get him absolutely nowhere. 

Akira frowned sympathetically. "Please tell me if there's anything I can do, Kaichou." The earnestness in his voice made Nokoru's smile turn bittersweet. 

"Of course, Akira," he soothed, watching the shadows melt away from his companion's face. "I suspect I'll need your help very soon." He winked, picking up his fan to lend a conspiratorial air to his words. "Someone has to distract Suoh." 

The black-haired persocon broke up into a fit of giggles, and Nokoru smiled. "I'll do anything you need me to, Kaichou," he promised. 

_Grow up with me._

"I have no doubt you will." 

--- 

Despite his internal clock, which never failed to tell him the correct time down to the smallest degree, dinner had seemed to take forever. Kamui had found himself to be totally uninterested in the conversation that took place around him. His replies to questions had been half hearted as his mind wandered back to the book on Fuuma's bed. The book he'd bought with his own money. He wanted to read it. 

Fuuma must have sensed his impatience, as he volunteered to do the dishes this once. Had Kamui known how, he would have kissed his owner out of gratitude. As it was, he'd given him a hug that had made the older boy blush and eventually shoo him away. He'd bounded up the stairs and currently stood in the doorway to Fuuma's bedroom. He closed the door carefully behind him – Kyougo hated the sound of slamming doors – and made his way over to the book. 

Kamui hummed softly as he settled himself down on the floor, his back pressed up against the comforter as he leaned the book up against his knees. The happy little melody continued as he turned the pages. The story seemed to continue from the first book, and the rabbit-type-thing wandered from town to town, looking for its "only person." Kamui found himself feeling sorry for it, thinking that it didn't deserve such isolation and loneliness. 

"…like us…" 

He turned a page, the humming drifting off into silence as the book before him vanished. The room came next, fading away into a blank black space that felt somehow familiar. 

"I've been waiting for you, Kamui." 

His suddenly empty hands dropped to his sides as he climbed to his feet, turning to face the reflection at his back. Here, he remembered. His other self sauntered across the distance, the long hem of his cloak billowing around him in an unseen wind. As it parted, he could see the glint of silver and red thread forming some kind of pattern on the vest he wore. The hand that reached for him was covered in a kind of fingerless glove that reached up to his upper arm. 

When he reached to take it, he found his own arm was sheathed in the exact costume, though in a brilliant white. Red, black and silver were mirrored in violet, white and gold down to the smallest detail. His reflection's fingers were cold as they wrapped around his. He didn't resist when the other pulled him forward, closing his other arm around him and holding him close. 

He remembered being afraid of this person, whose protective fury had nearly scared him witless. He wasn't scared now. 

"Why would you be?" /Kamui/ whispered into his hair. "I'm the only one who can protect us." 

_Fuuma…_

The other's grip on his shoulders tightened, anger and something akin to fear flickering in the midnight violet that matched his own. "He can't," his reflection insisted. "He's like all the others, you'll see." 

_No._

/Kamui's/ laugh seemed choked with a sad sort of resignation as he shifted, clasping Kamui's face in one chilled hand. His expression seemed desperate when he finally pulled away. Kamui lifted his free hand to his lips, which felt as if they'd been numbed through by the other's fierce kiss. His tongue too, had been frozen into silence when he most wanted to speak. Everything about his reflection was like ice, and it hurt. 

"Everyone leaves us." 

--- 

Autumn did nothing to still the waves of heat that radiated from the very ground beneath the city. Electricity thrummed through every corner of the pavement; it passed by every tree root and infused its presence into the bark and branches, until even petals and blades of grass seemed to glow with excess energy. 

Near the top of Tokyo Tower, the breeze hummed with artificial warmth. It tugged at the two figures that stood on a steel girder, pushing black against white and back. The slighter of the two let it press him against the taller, which was immovable against the whining wind that wanted so badly for him to shift. All the taller did was chuckle softly. 

The smaller figure, a slender male model, let his eyes flutter open as he lowered his hands. He reached into his pocket for a pair of black gloves, slipping them on without a word to his companion, who seemed in no hurry to press him for answers. Such was the way it had always been between them. 

Such was how it would ever be, and the smaller spoke first. "His signal has disappeared." 

Another chuckle, dark and velvet. The voice which followed had the impression of silk dragged over sandpaper. "How unfortunate." A pause. "Did you manage a trace?" 

The smaller gazed out over the vastness of the city and minutely shook his head. In contrast to the other's bearing, he seemed to be on constant watch for something. And he was, given that the information from millions of minds kept up an endless stream into his system. He'd been everywhere on earth, without having to leave this city. His city. Their city, this Tokyo. 

"He's getting more powerful." 

A faint touch stirred his hair, opposite from where the wind sought to take it. "Perhaps we should split up and search for him?" 

Closing his eyes, the smaller of the two put a little more weight against the taller, who had spoken with a tone that sounded so disinterested in the idea as to not mean a word he'd said. "I don't think we'll have to," he replied. 

"We're closer this time, Seishirou-san. It's only a matter of time before we find him." 

--- 

_I'm sure some of you have been waiting for these two to show up, ne? Lots of fangirly moments in this chapter, hee. Not to mention Kusanagi, yay! I **will** find a way to include Keiichi, dammit. _

Hope you liked this chapter, and if you did, don't hesitate to review! :D


	13. Fuuma Hears Some Bad News

__

**Digital Revelation**

Chapter 13 - Fuuma Hears Some Bad News 

Somewhere, amid all the excitement in the lives of a cluster of young people in Tokyo, autumn had changed into winter. Though Japan's capital was lucky to avoid suffering the blustering cold of the north, the rapid decrease in temperature made Fuuma very, very glad for Tokiko's donation. He didn't know if persocon were supposed to feel the cold (Sorata was no help, as he insisted on bundling up Arashi because she looked cute like that) or even warmth, for that matter, but Kamui did. To his credit, Kamui hid the fact very well – Fuuma assumed that the deception was out of the need to keep him from worrying – and it was only after he woke up one morning to find the little persocon's teeth chattering that he'd been clued in. 

Kamui had been sleeping underneath the covers for almost a week, and Fuuma still didn't know whether or not he was completely okay with it. The persocon stayed perfectly still in his sleep, but the feeling of waking up to another body so close to his was bizarre. And it led to unexpected tension, as Fuuma had a tendency to worry about moving too much. Thankfully, Kamui often got up long before his owner, leaving him only with the problem of getting to sleep at night. It'd only been six days; the prospect of the arrangement being longer was daunting, to say the least. 

Despite those troubles, however, life seemed to be moving along quite well. A bright yellow pencil twirled between his fingers as Fuuma tuned out the teacher's lecture; his mind turned to more interesting, if not pleasant, ramblings. He'd had four more dates with Yuzuriha, and decided that he really liked spending time with her. So much so, that the age gap between them was hardly a thought anymore. It was only three years or so, after all. His relationship with the girl also mellowed her grandmother's opinion of him, which helped him at work. He had an inkling that he might be getting a bit of a raise come December. All in all, things were good, he decided. 

The chimes which signaled the end of classes couldn't come soon enough for the restless students. The rumor of snow was in the air, and with it came hopes for snowball fights and romantic walks amid white-dusted trees. Sorata happily "helped" Arashi into her tiny coat as they all made ready to leave. "You got another date today, Monou?" He asked, his grin toothy and begging for a chance to tease. "Seems like you're seeing Yuzu-chan a lot, lately." 

Fuuma waved him off with a snort. "I see her four days a week, at work, idiot." When Sorata rolled his eyes, he laughed. "But not today," he said quickly, stalling any retort as he pulled on his coat. "Thought I'd swing by the flower shop and pick Kamui up." 

Arashi climbed primly up onto Sorata's shoulder as the Kansai boy processed that. The pair made their way to the front gate, their walk unusually silent. Fuuma glanced over at his companion and found his eyes widening just a little as he thought he saw a flicker of displeasure pass over his friend's face before becoming lost in his usual smile. "Ah well, then I guess I'll have to find other company home." Sorata winked at him and headed off to the left as Fuuma went right; a wave later and he'd ducked out of sight. 

The walk to the flower shop seemed shorter today, as streets and people passed by without much notice. Fuuma's thoughts turned inward, wondering what – if anything – he'd seen in Sorata's face. The musings quickly turned from curious to defensive; as if the other had any right to comment on proper behavior toward persocon. A day or two ago, he'd been gushing over how cute Arashi had looked in the mittens he'd bought. Ridiculous to spend that much time on something so trivial – especially since most persocon models didn't feel cold or heat at all. No, he decided; Sorata had no right to judge him at all. 

He stepped into the flower shop to the jingling of the bell above the door, gaining himself a happy welcome from the shop's two employees. He braced himself just in time to catch Kamui's smaller form as he raced to hug him. All his dismal thoughts were pushed to the back of his mind as he smiled down at his persocon, smoothing his hair out a little. 

Eventually, Kusanagi emerged from the back room and waved, checking his watch. "A little late, aren't you?" He asked, teasingly, as he wiped his brow. Because of the cold outside, the temperature in the little shop was almost tropical; Fuuma had found that he could only spend so much time in the place before it became uncomfortable. "Kamui-kun was just about to head home without you." 

Fuuma gave Kamui a slight nod, as if that possibility wasn't out of the ordinary. Since their schedules often overlapped and things came up, there was no way of knowing if Kamui would have an escort home or not after work. The deal was that if Fuuma hadn't come after fifteen minutes, Kamui was to walk home alone. The entire Monou family had been careful to impress upon the persocon that he was to go _directly_ home and the only thing he should stop for was traffic. They knew him too well to be anything but painfully literal on this point. There were even worse things than strip shows out there, and Fuuma didn't need to be psychic to know that, if left to his own devices, Kamui would find every single one of them purely by accident. "Glad I made it in time, then," he replied easily, letting Kamui go so he could clean up and get his things. 

Kusanagi watched him bound into the back of the shop and chuckled. "He's a good worker, Monou-san," he said. "Learned everything in no time; even how to handle his admirers." 

That comment made Fuuma laugh. "I've heard they're a little… keen… on him." 

"To say the least." The florist's voice was wry. "But they're happy to buy something if he thinks it's nice, so I'm not complaining." 

Fuuma's reply was cut short by the jangle of the door's bell, which was just as well; as he checked his watch, he noticed the time and became anxious to leave to avoid walking the entire way home in the dark. He glanced up to make his excuses, when he noticed that the expression on the older man's face had become brighter, though at the same time, almost a little sad. "Missy…" 

"Kusanagi-san!" He'd heard that voice before, almost every day. He turned to indulge his curiosity and was surprised to see his coworker's petite frame struggling with a large bento box. "I brought some dinner, I thought we could have a picnic in the shop and–" 

As she set the box down, the sunny smile on Yuzuriha's face froze as she saw that she and the shop owner were not alone. 

"Uh-oh…" 

--- 

Akira fussed over Nokoru's hair and clothing as the hands of the clock ticked toward dinner hour. Normally, such attention was unneeded; his owner took fairly good care of his appearance and suppertime was a rather simple affair. Tonight, however, the matriarch of the Imonoyama zaibatsu had requested her youngest son's presence at her table. Nokoru very nearly ordered Akira out of the room after the persocon mused over a change of clothes with ten minutes to go; only refraining because he knew the persocon would wear a path in the carpet with worry. So, he tried to maintain a conversation with Suoh as Akira mothered him. 

"And you're sure you've checked every message board?" The yellow tassel of his fan frayed in protest as it once again became tangled around Nokoru's fingers. This seemed to be the only nervous habit years of training hadn't drummed out of the youth, though he was very good about restraining it in all but the most private of moments. 

Suoh nodded, for once infinitely patient with the question that had been asked, in various forms, more than a dozen times. "Yes, Kaichou. There's still nothing new, even on the third woman." 

Nokoru sighed irritably. He'd hoped to bring some more information to bargain with than simply two photographs and a sob story when he met with his mother. One didn't open the Imonoyama records for perusal to anyone – not even a family member – without pressing reason. His status as her youngest and possibly favorite child would do little for him tonight. He'd thought that his case would be made for him when the second photo had arrived in his inbox last night. Judging by the fact that the previous pair of women appeared in the picture, though this time sans Kamui, he felt safe assuming that it had come from the same sender. 

And this photograph had added another interesting piece of the puzzle. 

The black-haired woman was seated as she had been in the first picture; off to the left, framed by laboratory equipment. The brown-haired woman had changed places, standing behind a chair now occupied by an attractive blond woman with curly hair and bright blue eyes. Suoh's analysis of the two pictures hinted that the second had been taken earlier. To add to the intrigue, the brown-haired woman's hand rested on the blonde's shoulder, allowing Nokoru to assume that they might have been closer than simple colleagues. 

Even Suoh had been a bit excited by this latest evidence; taken in by the possibility that they would certainly be able to find the identities of one of this new woman. Two people could possibly disappear from the face of the planet, but it was hard to believe that _three_ could. 

Unfortunately, it seemed that their hopes were too high, too early, for the return on them had been absolutely silent. 

The response left Nokoru with an even firmer belief that the information was somewhere in the CLAMP Campus records, and even less information to back it up. It left him in a somewhat sour mood as Akira ushered him out of the office and into the car waiting downstairs. The pair of persocon waved to him as they drove out of sight, winding through little explored areas of the campus and eventually reaching the Chairwoman's favorite meeting place. He took the elevator up to the top of the clock tower and bowed low as he entered the room. 

"Good evening, Nokoru-san." The Chairwoman – for in this element, in front of her face, he had never been able to call her "mother," even to himself – intoned regally. Her deep voice layered with equal parts majesty and mystery. Shifting her ever-present fan to obscure her eyes, she gestured for him to come and sit with her. "I'm pleased you could make it tonight." 

He bowed again before settling down across from her. His feet swung a little in a chair that was too high to let them touch the floor. "It's always an honor to see you, Rijichou," he replied smoothly and was rewarded with a slight smile. He rarely saw her, perhaps once or twice a month, and never just to see her. An audience always required a reason. "I have a favor to ask of you." 

Manners dictated that she nod and acknowledge the request, though nothing more would be spoken about it until after their meal. A pair of human attendants brought in their first course, followed by another who set a delicate, nearly translucent screen between them to keep her from being completely visible. Only after it was securely in place did she set down her fan and begin to eat. He'd never seen the Chairwoman's face; he'd always assumed that it was for security reasons. Should he ever fall victim to a successful kidnapping, he'd never be able to describe her completely. As with so many of his family's quirks, he accepted it and moved on. 

They ate in relative quiet, picking their way through three delicious courses with nothing of import passing between them. She asked about his studies, the Student Council and inquired after Suoh and Akira. He asked about his brothers and sisters, her health and expressed hope that she was not working herself too hard. A very simple dance that, having been strictly adhered to, filled the silence and revealed nothing. 

After the dessert had been cleared, the screen was removed and the air in the room became much more formal. "Now, Nokoru-san," she began. "Tell me about this request you have made." 

He explained the situation from the beginning as she listened intently and sipped at her tea. He told her about Monou-san, Arisugawa-san and Kamui; revealed his theories surrounding the persocon's unusual programming and his connection to the blackout; and admitted finally that he'd been held up in his investigation, hinting strongly that he had no other recourse. 

She contemplated his petition carefully, remaining silent for several long moments. Patiently, he sampled his own tea and admired the view of Tokyo Tower. It had been said by many that the CLAMP Campus' first building offered the city's best view of the massive steel and wire structure. He slowly brought his attention back to his companion as she set her teacup down on the table. 

"May I see these photographs?" 

The manila envelope slid easily across the table, and she laid them out carefully to inspect them. Her neutral expression slipped slightly as her lips tightened in what might have been the beginnings of a frown. Nokoru felt his perfect posture straighten even further; regardless of the outcome of his request, something in those pictures had piqued her interest. Something in there was important, and not only that, something was _familiar_. If she denied him access to the records, she might offer him some information instead. 

He waited, albeit a little less patiently, as she slid the photographs back into the envelope and rested her hand over them. "I'm going to grant your request, Nokoru-san," she said with her beautiful, subtle smile. "I believe this information is of interest for the sake of your friends, as well as others." 

He bowed in his seat, keeping his own smile within the bounds of good manners and thanked her in a calm, measured voice. "Thank you, Rijichou. I am very grateful for your help." 

She nodded in return and he stood to make his exit. 

"Nokoru-san?" 

Her voice at his back made him pause, turning to look at her over his shoulder. 

"Do be careful with how you use this information," she wasn't looking at him, rather, out over the city. But he could see her smile in the window's reflection, and it gave him a chill. 

"What you're looking for is going to draw a great deal of attention." 

--- 

"Yuzuriha-chan?" Fuuma had to admit that he was confused. He'd expected the girl to possibly be surprised to see him, as this shop was a good bit out of the way for him, and they'd never met up here before. But the blush that was painting her cheeks and her anxious expression told him that he'd been caught up in the middle of something he shouldn't even know about. 

For her part, Yuzuriha fidgeted with the cloth tie on the box and didn't seem to want to look at him. "Ah… hi, Monou-san." The end of his name was lost in a rush of nervous giggling. "Funny meeting you here!" 

He raised an eyebrow at her, feeling a bit lost. "I suppose…" 

A little movement out of the corner of his eye drew his attention to Kusanagi, who was watching them both appraisingly. He wasn't sure he liked the expression on the man's face; though there was nothing bad he could put his finger on. Just… he felt a little nervous himself. The man smiled sadly and stepped out from behind the counter. "Perhaps I should go check on Kamui-kun," he said and turned to leave. 

Yuzuriha looked absolutely frantic when Fuuma looked back at her. There was a notion nagging at him that he didn't want to acknowledge; he hoped that there was another reason she was acting like this. "You okay, Yuzuriha-chan?" 

She let out a massive sigh and covered her face with her hands, shaking her head hard enough to send her short black hair flying. "I'm sorry!" Her voice, though muffled by her hands, seemed to be on the edge of tears. He let her hide for another moment and then carefully pulled her hands away from her face, feeling his heart sink a little more as she looked up with watery eyes. "I'm so sorry, Monou-san." 

He tried for a smile, though he realized too late that it felt more like a grimace. "What for?" He knew he was stabbing himself in the foot by asking, but it was better if he brought it up instead of waiting for her to pony up the information. If he didn't like what he heard, he could always blame himself instead of it all being solely on her. 

Her lower lip trembled and she tucked it between her teeth briefly before glancing down and pulling away from him. "I like you a lot, Monou-san," she started, and Fuuma felt his heart sink a little lower. "But… you see…" her voice dropped even further, as if preparing to share something shocking. "I love Kusanagi-san." 

"You LO--" 

She clapped a hand over his mouth before he could get it all out, making shushing motions with her other hand. "Please don't say anything!" She begged. "He doesn't know it yet. He just thinks I have a silly crush and because he's so kind, he's letting me have it for a little while." 

As she pulled her hand away, he nearly asked her how "kind" someone could be if they blatantly walked the edge of pedophilia and did nothing to discourage it. He glanced back toward the back room and wondered if he really wanted Kamui working for a man with a closet Lolita complex. 

She seemed to read what he was thinking, or she'd heard it before, because although her expression was still guilty, a steely sort of determination trickled into her eyes. "He is a _nice man_, Monou-san." 

Fuuma sighed and rolled his eyes upward; any mask was a good one when it covered how hurt he felt. "Why did you get me involved?" 

"Obaasama doesn't know about Kusanagi-san," she said softly, and Fuuma couldn't help but snort. Of course her grandmother didn't know, why would she? All she would do would be the intelligent thing and tell Yuzuriha that she shouldn't see the man anymore and for gods' sake go out with someone her own age. He felt a little sick. 

"So you needed someone to cover for you." 

Yuzuriha seemed to recoil at the lack of emotion in his words; he wasn't feeling charitable enough to believe she was only upset that she'd used him. "Monou-san, I'm really sorry…" 

Had he been capable of gratitude at the moment, he would've given it in heaps to Kamui just then, for the little persocon chose that moment to emerge from the back room. From his subdued demeanor, Fuuma guessed that Kamui had spoken to Kusanagi and was warned that his typical exuberance might not be the best thing. It hardly mattered; Fuuma was just glad to have a reason to leave. "Ready to go?" 

Kamui nodded, giving Yuzuriha a quick, curious look before focusing back on his owner. Fuuma could see the unspoken question, "Can I help her?" die as Kamui met his eyes. The persocon answered in a very meek voice. "Kamui is ready to go now." 

Fuuma gave Yuzuriha a halfhearted wave – no one could accuse him of having no manners – as they turned to go. "See you at work, Nekoi-san." He closed his ears to her sorrowful reply and was all too glad for the numbing cold that hit him when he stepped outside. 

--- 

Despite his better judgment, Kamui remained quiet the whole walk home. He'd wanted to tell Fuuma all about his day, uneventful as it was, and maybe take away that hard, angry expression on the other's face. He was a little frightened of that look; he'd never seen it before today, in the months since he'd been activated. Mostly, however, he was worried about his owner. Kusanagi-san had told him that Fuuma might be upset, so Kamui should be careful not to bother him too much. Walking out into the shop proper and seeing the girl so unhappy made Kamui take that advice and not risk furthering the other's bad mood. 

The quiet made the trip seem longer, and Kamui used the time to plan something nice for dinner. He'd make something Fuuma liked to cheer him up. It worked for Kyougo and Kotori, most of the time, and it was a common enough idea in the stories he'd read. People were happier eating food they liked the best. It couldn't hurt, anyhow. 

Something wet and cold landed on his nose and he pawed at it with mittened hands, glancing upward to see strange white things drifting down toward him. His memory supplied the word "snow" and he felt something akin to awe as he watched it fall. Unconsciously, he tugged on Fuuma's sleeve, prompting a grunted question until he looked where the other was pointing. "It snows," Kamui breathed, watching happily as the flakes landed on his coat and felt them cling to his eyelashes. "First time snow." 

The fact that he saw Fuuma smile made it all the more wonderful. 

He was still staring straight up at the sky, Fuuma leading him by the hand, when they returned to the shrine. He wisely kept his mouth closed; Fuuma had gently warned him against swallowing any of the white flakes, but all his attention was on the sky. Never in his short life had he wanted to stay outside as he had then, but his responsibilities within the house took priority. He called a cheerful hello as they hung their coats up and slipped out of wet-soled shoes. Kyougo called back from the kitchen, and Kamui hurried in to tell him all about what he'd seen. 

"Snow, Kyougo-san!" 

The older man chuckled and set his paper down. Fuuma plodded in a moment later and began to sift through the mail. "This is the first time you've seen it, right?" Kamui nodded in earnest and Kyougo smiled. "You're lucky, Kamui-kun," he said gently. "It doesn't snow all that often here." 

The persocon beamed. "Kamui lucky." 

And with that, he began to look through the pantry and refrigerator to find something for dinner, humming softly to himself and only half listening to the conversation between father and son. 

"She's not going to be home for dinner tonight," Kyougo was saying, skimming his newspaper again. 

Fuuma tilted his head, curiously; now that the happiness of the first snow had died away, some of that troubled humor returned. Kamui hurried to get things ready, hoping the others would be patient. 

"Is she out with friends or something?" 

Kyougo smiled a little. "She said she had a date." 

The egg Kamui was holding rolled out of his hand and smashed onto the counter without him even realizing it. The news surprised him, for he knew how protective Fuuma was of his younger sister, and the concepts of "dating" and "Kotori" almost never came together without a negative. Fuuma's eyes narrowed slightly, as if the wheels of retribution had already begun to turn. "With who?" 

Kyougo seemed unaffected by his son's reaction, as if it was expected. "I think your friend Arisugawa came to pick her up." His hand came up quickly, cutting off a protest or exclamation. The murderous look on Fuuma's face was enough. "Don't even think about going after them, Fuuma." 

"But Father--" 

"She'll be just fine," Kyougo admonished gently. "You can let her out from under your wing for tonight." 

Without a word, only the eloquence of clenched fists and furious eyes, Fuuma turned on his heel and left the room. Kamui set his cooking implements down and tried to understand the helplessness that welled up in his throat. So many new things today; it was difficult to sort them all out. He desperately looked over at Kyougo and the man gave him a sympathetic smile. "Don't worry too much, Kamui-kun. It's not easy to learn that your baby sister is growing up." 

Kamui took Kyougo's word for it, since it wasn't any easier for him to understand. 

He ended up making curry for dinner; most of which went uneaten. After he cleaned up the kitchen and made preparations for the next day, he headed upstairs with a healthy amount of trepidation. He didn't know what he could do for Fuuma to help, and it worried him. That was his job, after all. He was supposed to take care of his owner in all things. But he didn't know how to fix this. He didn't even understand what was going on. 

Kamui couldn't help but think that if he'd been a proper persocon, he'd be able to be what Fuuma needed him to be. 

As he approached Fuuma's door, he was surprised to find Arisugawa-san's persocon sitting on the floor beside it. She appeared bored, as usual, though she seemed glad enough to see him as he bent down to pick her up. "Sora-chan said he didn't want to be bothered tonight," she said matter-of-factly. "He said I should stay with you." 

"Oh," came the intelligent answer. "Okay." 

She sat on his shoulder as Kamui discovered that Fuuma's door was locked. Frowning, he knocked. "Fuuma?" 

His owner's response was long in coming. 

"Sorry, Kamui," Fuuma answered, voice laced with exhaustion. "You'll have to sleep on the couch tonight." 

Kamui stood in the hallway for an undetermined length of time before complying with his owner's wishes. 

And it hurt. 

_"Everyone leaves us."_

--- 

_I hadn't planned on this chapter being so angst-ridden, but it just turned out that way. The next one is a little less heavy, though things don't get better for Fuuma (and by proxy, Kamui) for a while. Poor Fuuma. ;;; _

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, I'm so glad you all are sticking with me. I do have to say thanks in particular to Yersi Fanel, who liked the fic so much that she reviewed three times in twenty-four hours. Glad you like the fic! 

**Next Chapter:** Someone new joins the group, someone starts making connections, and someone gets a little closer to finding someone else. 


	14. Kamui Disappears

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**Digital Revelation**

Chapter Fourteen – Kamui Disappears 

Dawn looked different when seen from the grandeur of the porch windows; framed by the trees that lined the shrine like a natural wall. Kamui didn't know why, but he didn't like it. Having stayed awake the entire night, watching the stars rise and fall beyond the treetops while trying to puzzle out his current situation, there was less of an intimacy or beauty to the rising colors in the sky. He preferred watching the big ruby-colored ball through the hazy blue of Fuuma's bedroom's curtains. His internal alarm was going off, reminding him that he had to start on the laundry... 

He was strangely ambivalent about the chore. Though he didn't prefer to wallow in his confusion, it was more interesting at the moment than whether or not the clothes would get washed. He'd been wide awake when Kotori had sneaked in the house at sometime past midnight. She'd signaled for him to be quiet, so he hadn't had a chance to say anything to her. Ostensibly, she hadn't wanted him to wake the rest of the house, but Kamui thought it was less out of courtesy than it was more out of the fear of her older brother's interrogation. 

The thought of Fuuma, wondering what he could possibly do, made him sigh. The sound brought Arisugawa-san's little persocon around, and she glanced up at him curiously. He'd tried to talk about his concerns with her, but her logic program wasn't advanced enough to handle the amount of loops he'd tried to put it through without even knowing it. She'd politely asked him to give up around an hour after Kotori had gone up to bed. Now, he just shook his head and she seemed content to leave it at that. 

His biggest obstacle, he decided, was that he didn't know what to do to help Fuuma. Simply being around and available for the other didn't seem like it would do much quickly, and Kamui couldn't bear the thought of Fuuma being unhappy any longer than necessary. 

Eventually, his "make breakfast" alarm out-nagged his "do laundry" alarm, and dragged him back to caring about silly things like his morning routine. He wandered into the kitchen with Arashi on his shoulder and found the single breakfast plate in the sink. It took him a moment to realize that he'd completely missed Kyougo leaving for his meeting. He was momentarily disturbed that the attention he was devoting to Fuuma's problems was so great as to obscure almost everything else. Given that he was, despite whatever else, the housekeeper at the Tokagushi Shrine, that kind of distraction was very bad. 

He let the worries slip away for a while, busying himself with breakfast and trying to make up for lost wash time. Before he knew it, the light steps of the Monou's youngest sounded against the wooden floor. He looked up immediately, holding out a small tray for her to take. "Good morning, Kotori!" 

Her smile was tired, and less affectionate toward him than it used to be. "Good morning, Kamui-chan," she replied, looking over the food and then smiling a little bit more. "Breakfast looks good, as usual." 

He thanked her quickly, time for questions vanishing as Fuuma appeared. He couldn't help but notice that even the sunlight seemed to dim in the face of the older boy's mood. Fuuma ignored his food, ignored _him_, and focused on his sister. Kotori's blue eyes widened, but she picked at her rice as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Or tried to, anyway. 

"Have fun last night?" 

Both sister and persocon winced at his tone. She set her chopsticks down carefully and her expression was plaintive. "Oniichan, don't be mad," she said quickly, barreling forward when it looked like Fuuma was going to argue. "Sorata-san asked me out yesterday after school." Her expression tightened a little. "You weren't around to tell." 

Kamui almost felt like an intruder, watching the beginnings of an inevitable row between brother and sister. But, being that he'd decided to try and be there for his owner, he couldn't very well leave when things got heated. "Fuuma pick up Kamui yesterday," he offered helpfully, biting his lip when his owner's expression didn't shift. The other appeared to not even hear him. 

Kotori had, however. And her face was a mask of something he couldn't identify. "I know, Kamui-chan," she answered, her tone clipped. "You have to come first, don't you?" 

Even Kamui wasn't simple enough to miss that the question was rhetorical, and directed not at him, but at her brother. Still, the program that passed for a heart mysteriously started to beat faster, making his chest hurt. 

Fuuma's eyes narrowed. "Why would you go out with someone like Arisugawa?" He demanded, either missing the venom in the question completely or just ignoring it. 

His lack of reaction only encouraged hers, and Kamui was scared. She picked herself up from her chair and stood to face Fuuma, chin raised defiantly. "Because, oniichan," she spat out the word as if it tasted bad. "It's not such a bad thing to have someone like me!" She leveled a thin finger at him. "And don't you do anything to him, I mean it. Sorata-san's a nice boy." 

Something about that made Fuuma sneer. Kamui startled when he felt Arashi's little hand pat his cheek, as if trying to reassure him. Her expression seemed a little put out that Fuuma was not-so-subtly implying that her owner wasn't good enough for his little sister, but she contented herself with alternately scowling and giving Kamui supportive glances. 

"He's a flake, Kotori," Fuuma snapped. "He's not serious about anything." 

"How can you say that?" Kotori shouted, her delicate skin flushed an angry red. "He's your friend and you're in _no_ place to judge him!" 

Kamui thought he'd seen his owner's back stiffen a bit with that rebuke, though the other showed no other sign of knowing what the enraged girl meant. "I'm your brother, Kotori." On the contrary, his tone seemed completely reasonable compared to the fury he'd driven his sister to. "I can have an opinion on who wants to get their hands on you, can't I? Heaven forbid I worry about you." 

For a moment, it looked like Kotori would slap him; her hand was pressed against her chest, all resolve directed toward keeping it there and not whipping across her brother's face. She was still seething, but there were tears in her eyes now. "Don't you dare, oniichan," she hissed through her tightly clenched teeth. "Not when you're so much worse." Fuuma looked like he wanted to say something, but she cut him off, her voice getting louder with every word. 

"You _never_ pay attention to us—to me—anymore, so you get no say! If it's not work, it's _that_--" She flung her hand out to point accusingly at Kamui. "It's weird, oniichan! You're ignoring everyone, it's not healthy!" 

Slowly, the color drained from Fuuma's face; Kotori's anger had finally hit a nerve he couldn't ignore. Kamui, meanwhile, felt himself close the world out, until he barely cared who either Monou was. He'd never dreamed that he could be the cause of so much trouble, so much anger, between siblings who had seemed to be so happy together. The pair continued arguing for some time, eventually splitting up in a rush of angry words and slamming furniture. At one point, he thought Fuuma was talking to him, but it was only to collect Arashi – presumably to return her to Sorata. 

Somehow, the dishes were washed and the food put away. The clothes were set out to dry and Kamui dressed for work. Nothing seemed to make much impression on him, and that was all right. Sadly, the snow that dusted the ground failed to move his spirits upward, as it had last night. A few stray flakes landed on his hand and for a moment, he was surprised to realize that they didn't melt. 

But of course they didn't. And they wouldn't; he knew this, and yet had managed to forget. 

Focusing on the complexities of snow-and-plastic interaction made the rest of the world return around him. People flowed around him, all immediately falling into one of those three categories, though today they didn't seem to need to talk to him. That was okay, because he was content to just observe. 

He was a half an hour late to work by the time he realized what time it was, and he began to run. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the sight of a blue covered book in a store display and stopped short. It was another of those books; the sad-eyed rabbit-creature stared out at him from the cover. But this time, it had another rabbit-creature beside it. Intrigued, Kamui stepped over to the display and picked up one of the books, all thoughts of work curiously gone from his mind. 

Kamui began flipping through the book, skimming the pictures as he felt that strange lightheadedness that he'd come to see as going hand-in-hand with the books. Sounds began to muffle and his surroundings faded, as they always did. 

But before he could fall under completely, a hand closed over his mouth and an arm wrapped around of his waist. As he was yanked backward, he felt his power fail and everything went black. 

--- 

When Nokoru glanced in the mirror, he was distressed to realize he had traces of his keyboard imprinted in his cheek. This, of course, was not the best impression to show his classmates, especially when he was turning up for only the second half of school today. And he was seriously contemplating blowing off the rest of the day to finish his research; he was halfway back to his desk as it was. Classes were trivial compared with the wealth of information he'd been allowed access to. His tie slipped through his fingers and coiled on the floor as he slid back into his chair. He only had access for twenty-four hours. School could wait. 

The tough part would be convincing his companions, given that they were already worried at/angry with him for attempting to stay up all night. He'd been the only one of the three who'd thought falling asleep at his keyboard was funny. Ah well, he thought absently as he continued reading files. He'd have to look into upgrading their humor programs. 

Naturally, he was thrilled to find out that his theory was correct; the information he needed was in the database. His chore currently was sorting through all that data to find specifics. Having so little to draw on as criteria, he was forced to guess at a date and continue down the line until something caught his eye. 

And something had. Magami Tokiko had been a biology researcher at CLAMP Campus until very recently. Her personnel file stated that she'd resigned a month before Monou-san had come to him with his persocon problems. With her qualifications, twin degrees in biology and medicine, Nokoru wasn't surprised she'd been re-employed at Monou-san's school so quickly. What did surprise him, however, was that sections of her file had been edited after her resignation. Sections which typically covered things like relations and projects finished while employed were uncharacteristically spare. Noticing the alterations had made Nokoru's fingers itch to pry into the system, but he'd tempered it in the early stages of his investigation. As he continued, the feeling got so bad that he'd worried his fan tassel down into mere threads. 

He'd found this precious little information about Magami-san about the time he'd drifted off to the sounds of an insistent beeping sound which he'd later identify as his alarm clock. This afternoon, he planned on seeing where her connections to the persocon projects lay. He didn't doubt the efficiency of whomever was attempting the cover-up, but the chances of missing one file in thousands from almost ten years ago were very high. And all he needed was one file to get more leads. 

The door to his office opened and he looked up to see Akira poke his head in. Wide grey eyes surveyed the situation and then turned to an unseen companion with a little grin. "I told you," he giggled, and stepped fully into the room, carrying a small lunch tray. Predictably, Suoh followed close behind; the sterner of his two companions favored him with a reproving glance but said nothing. Akira set the tray down at Nokoru's elbow. "Have you found anything yet?" 

Nokoru set the search to perusing the files as he snatched up a half of the sandwich in a way that might have been undignified, had he been anyone else. "Not yet," he replied around a mouthful of egg and lettuce. "But it's only a matter of time, ne?" 

Suoh deposited a stack of papers on his desk. "If you have time, Kaichou," was the usual accompaniment. As usual, Nokoru ignored them; he'd get around to them when things had calmed down enough for them to be important. "I've emailed your teachers and requested your homework." 

Even computer-enhanced reflexes failed to predict the emergence of the fan, complete with "THANK YOU" in large red characters. Suoh made a face and Akira laughed and began straightening up the office, starting with the tie laying forgotten on the floor. 

Nokoru's lunch disappeared amid companionable silence, and Nokoru stood at his window and looked out on the bustling crowds of students as they moved from class to class. He singled out members of his own grade by their uniforms, watching clusters of smartly pressed jackets and fluffy white bows move under the window, children chatting animatedly as they showed off new pencil cases or bag accessories that sparkled and dangled from shoulder straps. He stepped back from the glass, further into shadow, as one student glanced up in the direction of his office. 

"Kaichou?" 

He was saved from having to answer Suoh's question by the computer, which called attention to the end of the search with a smart little chime. Momentarily distracted from the window, Nokoru sat down heavily to examine the findings. As he'd hoped, some of the terms had matched, and the list was short. Position paper… request for materials… research proposal… "Well, I'll be…" 

He sat up a little straighter as he read over the last few files, his eyes widening as he found exactly what he was looking for. His expectations, however, had been quite different. 

"Suoh, please call Monou-san." The fan opened and closed impatiently as he opened another file. "I need to speak to him as soon as possible." 

--- 

Sorata had tried to call him twice. First, because without his persocon, he'd overslept and missed school. Second, because he'd spoken to Kotori and wanted to put in his opinion on the matter. Fuuma had hung up on him both times without speaking to him. Childish, naturally; but the oldest Monou child did so out of anger and caution. As much as he didn't want to talk to Sorata, he didn't want to say anything he might regret later. He already felt guilty over what had passed between him and his sister. He didn't need both members of the couple hating him. 

Sighing loudly, he peered up at the gloomy grey sky; the snow-heavy clouds drifted lazily, targeting the ideal spot upon which to release their flurries. Aside from that short snowfall, the past twenty-four hours had been something of a disaster. The path to amends with all parties started with Kamui, who would be the easiest to placate. 

As he rounded a corner, on the way to the flower shop, Arashi tugged on his scarf. "You have a call from Nokoru-san," she intoned, just loud enough for him to hear. He'd been relieved to find that the shouting-into-the-ear announcements were reserved for Sorata alone. When he nodded, her eyes glazed over and her prim voice was replaced by a higher, boyish one. 

"Monou-san?" 

Fuuma paused to arrange Arashi in his hand. "Afternoon, Imonoyama-san," he replied, his interest piqued. The boy may have been friends with Sorata, but he didn't seem to regard Fuuma in the same way and so only called when something important happened. "What's up?" 

The boy seemed to hesitate on the other end of the line. Odd. "I've found some more information about Kamui-san," the tinny voice said. "When would you be able to meet me?" 

"This afternoon'll be okay, I think." He thought over his schedule for the day; ignoring the small voice that was plainly unhappy that he was so quick to do things when it came to Kamui. Of course he was interested in the information, but the immediacy was more because of Nokoru. The boy genius was probably really busy, no need to make him wait forever for him, of all people. 

"Wonderful," the relief in Nokoru's voice was palpable. "There's a delightful coffee shop on campus, not far from my home. Shall we say, three o'clock?" 

Fuuma stopped in front of the flower shop doors, nodding though the other couldn't see it. "Sounds good, Imonoyama-san," he said distractedly, looking around for Kamui and, somewhat less expectantly, for Kusanagi-san. "I'll see you at three." 

After the line cut, he placed Arashi back on his shoulder, heading into the shop. As he crossed the threshold, the bell above the door jingled. "Hello?" 

His voice and the bell brought the shop owner hurrying out of the back. "Monou-kun," he greeted, looking a bit worried. Fuuma cringed, thinking of the bizarre events of yesterday. No doubt Kusanagi-san was as uncomfortable as he. "Is Kamui-kun with you?" 

Fuuma's mouth hung open, mid-utterance, as his brain processed the unexpected question. "Huh?" 

The much bigger man emerged from behind the counter, wiping his hands on a towel that hung from his shop apron. "Kamui-kun didn't come in to work today," he elaborated. "I was starting to get worried." 

"Kamui isn't here?" Fuuma asked dumbly, before realizing how much of an idiot he sounded. "Father said he left this morning, same as usual." His brain had begun running through possibilities. Kamui hadn't wandered off by himself in weeks; the persocon knew better at this point than to go anywhere without permission. Having discounted that, more sinister scenarios began to battle for attention. 

Kusanagi-san must have read the beginnings of worry in his expression, as he took off his apron and hung it over the counter. "Let me close up quickly, and we'll go look for him." 

Ten minutes later, they were combing the streets; they poked into various shops on the route from the Tokagushi Shrine to Earth's Gifts, asking if any of the shop owners had seen a persocon of Kamui's description. The closer they came to the shrine, the clearer the picture became. Some of the shop owners recalled Kamui passing by, but hadn't noticed anything strange. 

"It's like he just disappeared," Kusanagi-san mused as they stopped to grab a can of coffee from a vending machine. He noticed the grimace on his companion's face and immediately offered an apology. 

Fuuma turned the hot can over in his hands, warming them and thinking. He asked Arashi to call Imonoyama-san. He sketched a brief summary of their problem, though he didn't expect much help. They weren't much further from square one than they'd been more than an hour ago. The boy promised to try and locate Kamui from his end, and would call if he knew anything. 

When he finally cracked open the coffee, he noticed Kusanagi-san watching him carefully. He raised an eyebrow in question. 

"You care a lot about Kamui-kun, don't you?" Came the response, surprising him a little. What surprised him more, however, was the surge of hostility that came so quickly. Was he being judged? And what did he mean by "care" anyway? Again, being more perceptive than he gave the older man credit for, Kusanagi-san appeared apologetic. "They tend to grow on you, after a while." He said quietly. "Always underfoot, trying to help and if they don't do anything else, they still manage to cheer you up." 

Slowly, Fuuma realized that Kusanagi wasn't talking exclusively about Kamui. On some level, it stung and disturbed, but the fond expression on the older man's face somehow tempered both. "You're talking about Yuzuriha-chan," he asked, though the answer was pretty clear. 

Kusanagi-san's smile was wry. "It's not what you're thinking, Monou-kun." 

Fuuma had the good grace to look abashed. "Oh?" 

"Yuzuriha-chan's a good girl," the flower shop owner said, tipping the remainder of his coffee down his throat before tossing out the can. "She's sweet and thoughtful and I couldn't deal with her being sad." 

"Do you like her like she likes you?" It was really odd, he thought, gossiping with his persocon's boss, who happened to be somewhat involved with his boss' granddaughter. 

The older man's smile spoke volumes, running the gamut between affirmation and denial. "Not exactly, Monou-kun," he allowed. "She's a good kid and she acts a lot older than she looks... but she's still a little girl." He glanced at Fuuma and chuckled a bit. "With a taste for older men." 

Fuuma started to protest, until he thought about it and realized that the other had a point. He shook his head, bemused. "She's going to give her grandmother a heart attack one day." 

"That she will," Kusanagi answered readily, checking his watch. "I have to get back to the shop." The levity faded, leaving them with the situation that had brought them together. "Will you be all right on your own?" 

Glancing around, Fuuma nodded. "I'll keep looking. He has to be around somewhere." 

As the older man turned and headed back the way they came, Fuuma sincerely wished he felt as confident as he'd sounded. 

--- 

The soft whirr of computers, somewhere nearby, was the first sound Kamui heard as he came back to the waking world. Blinking slowly, out of habit more than necessity, he climbed to a sitting position and looked around. 

He had been curled up on a large bed in the middle of a sterile, white room. A window at his right brought in little light from outside; the darkening sky full of clouds. This wasn't Fuuma's room, nor the Monou living room, and definitely not the flower shop. It was safe to be said that he had no idea where he was. "Where...?" 

"You're in my mistress' house." 

Startled, Kamui looked around. He wasn't as alone as he'd thought, apparently. "Where?" 

"Right here!" 

Kamui followed the voice, his gaze focusing on a small mobile persocon standing on the bedside table. Curious, he crawled over, lowering his face so they were eye-to-bespecled eye. The persocon appeared slightly annoyed at his ignorance, and she crossed her arms over her chest after adjusting her black-rimmed glasses. Kamui tilted his head to one side. "Your name?" 

The persocon straightened proudly. "Satsuki," she said. "And yours?" 

"Kamui," he answered, smiling. 

Satsuki's eyes widened a little, then she puzzled over that for a moment. "So you're the one she keeps talking about." 

He was about to ask her what she meant, when the sound of a door opening caught his attention. Turning and straightening, he watched as a tall, very pretty woman sauntered into the room. She was easily the prettiest woman he'd ever seen; not that Kotori and Tokiko weren't beautiful, but this was different. Long, slightly curly hair tumbled down to swaying hips, framing a pale, sensual face. 

She looked like some of those women in Fuuma's magazines, Kamui thought. 

"Good evening, Kamui," she drawled, coming to a stop at the side of the bed closest to him. "I'm glad to see you're awake." Before he could ask her any questions, long fingers with vivid red nails circled around his chin and tilted his head back. Whatever served as his heart began to beat faster as his mind told him the appropriate reaction was panic. The look in her eyes was pure predator. 

"My name is Kanoe," she purred, threading her other hand through his hair; a strangely gentle motion that didn't seem to fit. He closed his eyes and attempted to turn away, and after a moment, she let him go. She smoothed his bangs and turned to leave. "Make yourself comfortable, Kamui," she said over her shoulder. 

"I'm going to learn all your secrets." 

--- 

_I'm sorry about the wait, everyone! Things are starting to pick up in the fic, so it shouldn't be much longer before the finish. This chapter donned the exposition sombrero and I apologize if anyone thought it was boring. Thank you all for reviewing, I'm glad you enjoyed it! :D _

**Next Chapter:** /Kamui/ puts in an appearance, Subaru and Seishirou come closer to finding what they're looking for, and Fuuma hears two things he never expected. 


	15. Fuuma Meets KAMUI

**Digital Revelation **

Chapter Fifteen – Fuuma meets /Kamui/

Hours passed before the strange woman returned. Kamui spent the time paging through his book – the one that he'd _stolen_, Fuuma was going to kill him – and watching Satsuki watch him. The little persocon made no effort to have a conversation with him. Every so often, he would look up to see her staring at him, the expressions mainly consisting of irritation, interest and perhaps boredom. Her scrutiny made him distinctly uncomfortable.

But when Kanoe re-entered the small room, he decided he would have preferred the quiet persocon's company.

In one slim hand, she held a bundle of cables. Her sultry smile widened when he backed up against the headboard, seeking the most distance. Too quickly, her hand pressed against his cheek, eliciting a whimper of fear that she seemed to enjoy. "Are you afraid of me, Kamui?"

His head bobbed frantically in a nod; he had no pride to protect by pretending to be strong. She laughed. "Perhaps you should be." She reached across the bed and wrapped her long fingers around his wrist, pulling him toward the edge despite his protestations. As he clasped his hands in his lap, Kamui realized they were shaking. Fascinated by this phenomenon, he ignored Kanoe as she connected a half-dozen cables into each of his ears and to a handful of monitors.

He didn't begin to take notice until a faint buzzing started in his head. Glancing up, he watched Kanoe typing on a keyboard attached to the largest monitor. She turned to look at him and smiled, gracefully inputting another command.

When the inside of his mind _exploded_ with pain, all he could do was scream.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Nokoru hovered by Suoh and Akira as both persocon searched for some kind of signal relating to Kamui. The young Imonoyama genius tapped his fan impatiently on one palm, toying with the tassel. So far, neither persocon had been able to locate the missing Kamui, much to his and Monou-san's dismay. Their meeting had been cancelled in the wake of the disappearance; his manners would be atrocious to have tried to feed the older boy further troubling information.

Beyond his concern for Monou-san's well-being, he was beginning to believe that Kamui's disappearances were more than worrisome, they were _bad_. They were trouble. His repeated attempts to get into contact with Tokiko Magami had all ended in failure. Normally, he would be able to attribute this to the woman being unwilling to talk to any strangers. However, since her silence coincided with Kamui's appearance and subsequent disappearance... he felt it was more than just a coincidence.

He didn't know how much he should reveal to Monou-san, given the circumstances. What right did he have, given that the boy's father hadn't even told him anything.

"Kaichou."

Nokoru looked up, startled out of his thoughts by Suoh's voice. "Yes?"

"I believe I have found him." The monitor at Suoh's left displayed a map of the Aoyama ward. "I have traced his signal to the residence of a hacker named Kanoe."

"Akira, please call Monou-san."

"Of course, Kaichou," the black haired persocon chirped. "I hope Kamui-san is all right."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The rooftop in Shinjuku provided another breathtaking view of Tokyo. The light pollution gave the city the image of eternal day, making it easier for the city to never sleep. Shibuya, Harajuku and Aoyama glittered to his right, Akasaka and Chiyoda to his left. The best of Tokyo spread out before them, and yet Subaru's attention was far away from the lights and glamour. His thoughts had been directed toward a small section toward his right. _He_ was there.

His reverie continued a few moments after the stronger arm encircled his waist. "Have you seen something interesting, Subaru-kun?"

"Here and there," came the reply, as Subaru began to close down his links to the persocon they'd been seeking. "He's very close."

A soft, velvet chuckle drifted over his ear. "I seem to remember you saying that last time as well." The firm body behind his offered a bit of support as he leaned backward, letting his eyes drift over the soft, shifting lights of the Tokyo skyline.

"He is closer, this time, Seishirou-san."

The hand skimmed over his side and Subaru tilted his head backward, into the crook of the taller man's neck and shoulder. "I'm beginning to think you don't want us to find him, Subaru-kun."

Subaru pulled away, with Seishirou's permission, as the man didn't stop him. "Don't be ridiculous," he said. "I know what our instructions are."

His only answer was another dark chuckle, winding its way into the soft illumination. And he could not answer because Seishirou was correct. He'd connected to the Kamui more than once, and all the memories uploaded to him had been simple, happy events. He couldn't help but want to keep the object of their search so contented.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Fuuma raced along the streets in Aoyama, following the directions given to him by Nokoru before Arashi had gone disturbingly silent. He was beginning to become used to this kind of incident. The directions were easy enough to remember, but the neighborhood was a maze of apartment buildings and walled-in houses. Veering sharply to his left as the section caught his eye, he saw a house with every window lit. Every instinct told him this was the house he was looking for and a quick look at the nameplate confirmed it.

Jiggling the lock, he saw that trying to force it would do no good. Stepping back and taking a deep breath, he leapt onto the wall, hoisting himself over into a small Japanese-style garden. The front door gave under his weight and as he set foot in the house, he heard a frighteningly familiar voice raised in a scream.

He thundered up the stairs, forced the door open… and froze.

In front of him, hovering a good meter off the floor, was Kamui. A mess of cables dangled from his ears, some wrapped around the throat of a gorgeous woman – Kanoe, his memory supplied, relying heavily on Nokoru's information. No matter how eye-catching the woman was, his gaze was turned back toward to Kamui. He was _smiling_.

The cords tightened around Kanoe's throat and she let out a half-gasped shriek that startled him out of his thoughts.

"Kamui _stop_!"

A cold silence, punctuated only by the soft whirr of computers, followed his order. Slowly, the cords loosened, letting Kanoe fall to the floor, coughing and whimpering. Kamui looked down at him and the expression on his face twisted. Fuuma swallowed, feeling something he had never expected to feel in Kamui's presence – fear.

"You must be Fuuma," Kamui purred as he lowered to the floor, the faint glow around his features remaining as he touched the ground. Still wearing the slight, feral-looking smile, he advanced toward Fuuma. "He's told me so much about you."

"He…?" It took a moment to realize that Kamui was using perfect grammar. Not that he noticed usually, but given the broken Japanese Kamui normally used… to hear it correctly was a bit unnerving.

Kamui pressed up against him, winding his arms loosely around his neck. The slight touch made him shiver for any number of reasons, most of which he wasn't willing to acknowledge. "He chose you…" the smile turned sinister in the harsh bluish glow of the computer monitors. "But you don't know yet."

Stepping back, Kamui traced the back of his fingers over Fuuma's cheek. "You'd better make up your mind, Fuuma.

"Or you'll be the first to go."

Fuuma found it difficult to breathe. "What… are you talking about?"

Kamui simply smirked at him, taking another step back. Slowly, the strange expression on his face melted away, replaced with the soft, slightly bewildered face he'd come to know well.

"Fuuma?"

"Kamui?"

The face lit up in a smile as the last of the glow faded. "Fuuma came. Kamui's special…"

Fuuma rushed to catch the persocon as he collapsed. As he held Kamui, he looked on the little persocon with alternating feelings of relief and horror and confusion.

_What on **Earth** is going on here?_

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_After about six months or more... an update! Thanks to those who have stayed with me. I appreciate it. :D _

**_Next Chapter: Kamui recovers and Fuuma finds out some disturbing things about himself and his family. O-tanoshimi ni!_**


	16. Nokoru Tells a Story Redux

**Digital Revelation **

Chapter 16 – Nokoru Tells a Story (Redux)

Kamui slept through the entire ride home. Alone, Fuuma had needed a taxi to move him across town to the shrine. In the quiet of the cab, he'd let his mind wander over an infinite number of possibilities, paying attention to none of them. His brain needed the exercise and he let it run.

Funny how the small persocon sitting on Kamui's shoulder had been the most coherent of the quartet. Once reception had been restored, Nokoru had recommended he take Satsuki with him, as insurance against Kanoe ever trying to get her hands on Kamui again. So now his companions had increased to one more surly persocon and he'd still been unable to regain his sister's or Sorata's friendship.

Morning came and Kamui hadn't recovered. The usual dawn alarm failed to execute in the little persocon, though Fuuma met the sunrise wide awake. His dreams had been a bit strange, and the last one finally woke him for good. In the growing half-light, he had looked down at Kamui's still profile, wondering what the events last night meant. He wasn't as shallow to think that ignoring Kanoe – a gorgeous woman – in favor of Kamui meant anything. She had kidnapped his persocon for crying out loud. She didn't deserve any interest beyond making sure she couldn't do it again.

But the strange aggressive attitude Kamui had adopted for those few minutes… that _had_ made an impression.

And the nature of said impression bothered him.

He left the persocon tucked into his bed and pulled the curtains back to give him some sunlight, as per Nokoru's advice. There was little worry that Kamui would go anywhere, but just in case, he left a request with his father to prevent the persocon from leaving the house until he returned. Breakfast had been tense and quiet between the Monou children. Kotori refused to look at him, and given his own harrowing evening, he wasn't in the mood to mend any fences either.

Nokoru had asked him to meet him at the café on the CLAMP Campus, near the Imonoyama mansion. He was grateful for the change in location, the scrutiny and stuffy quality of the mansion was the last thing he wanted to subject himself to. He was hoping Nokoru would do the talking today.

Café Duklyon was smack in the center the campus shopping center. The bell jingled over the door as he entered, earning himself a cheerful "Welcome!" as he glanced around the small restaurant. He spotted Nokoru in the corner, accompanied as usual by his two persocon. He had once admired Nokoru for bucking social norms and calling the two persocon friends. But looking at the boy, centered between two mother-hen… robots… he felt a measure of pity. Was Nokoru his own future? He had no idea.

Crossing the busy café, he glanced around at the patrons and staff. One waiter, a tall, perky blonde with blue eyes, caught his gaze and smiled. A second later, he winked. Surprised, Fuuma looked away quickly, making a beeline for Nokoru's table. Fortunately, the elementary schooler's server was a no-nonsense young lady.

"How is Kamui-san?" Fuuma looked over at the black-haired persocon with the huge, grey eyes.

He offered the persocon a little smile. "He was still sleeping when I left," he replied. "I think he'll be okay, though."

The quartet waited until Fuuma's coffee arrived before Nokoru began. He noticed the youth's fan was nowhere in sight, maybe a sign that the topic was all business, given that the fan seemed a little frivolous.

"I'm sorry to call you out after a night like last night, Monou-san."

Fuuma waved him off, stirring sugar and creamer into his coffee. "Don't worry, Nokoru-san. I wish I hadn't had to break it off yesterday."

The blonde steepled his hands in front of his face. "I debated whether or not to tell you anything at all," he said slowly. "But it is important you understand what you've gotten yourself into."

The coffee paused, halfway to his mouth before he set it down. "What do you mean?"

"Do you know what your mother did for a living?"

Fuuma's brows furrowed as his chest ached with a dull sort of pain. It hadn't been easy, losing his mother. He'd been the last of the family to recover from her loss. "Mother? She was a housewife…"

Nokoru studied him for a long moment, then nodded, as if his answer had confirmed his supposition. "That's not quite true. Saya Monou was one of the originators of the persocon project, along with two other women."

"Wait… what!"

The younger boy's fingers began to fidget, playing with the straw of his tea for lack of anything better to occupy him. "Fifteen years ago, your mother and the Magami sisters created the basic design of the persocon. Your mother was a genius, Monou-san. Then six years ago, she and the Magami sisters, Tooru and Tokiko, set out to create artificial intelligence, AI for short."

"Create it?" Fuuma echoed, his head beginning to threaten a headache. Nokoru was trying to tell him that his mother, the school nurse and the nurse's sister had _invented_ the persocon? Something… no, _everything_ about that was completely unbelievable. Not to mention incomprehensible. "I thought all persocon had that."

"Not quite." Nokoru paused, taking a visible breath before continuing. "Persocon have a system that resembles AI, but there are limitations. Let me show you. Akira, please stand beside Suoh."

The persocon stood immediately, crossing to the other side of the table where the blue-haired persocon sat.

"Hit him, please."

Both persocon stared at their owner, shocked. "…what?"

"Kaichou?" Suoh asked, his eyes narrowing.

The blonde's face was impassive. "Just do it, please."

The sterner Nokoru's tone became, the more flustered Akira became. "K-kaichou, I… I can't …Takamura-senpai…" He began to wring his hands. Fuuma opened his mouth to protest, not understanding what sort of demonstration required causing so much anxiety.

"Akira, I'm telling you to do something."

Covering his face, finally, Akira shook his head violently. "I'm sorry Kaichou, but I can't!"

Nokoru closed his eyes for a very long blink. Fuuma saw the muscles clench in his jaw as the stern expression melted away into a deeply sorrowful one. "…. No, Akira," he said softly. "I'm sorry. I'll explain later. Can you and Suoh leave us for a little while?"

"Yes, Kaichou…" Suoh led Akira out of the café, looking back at his owner reproachfully.

Nokoru waited until they were out of sight to take a long draw from his tea. Fuuma waited quietly, disturbed by what he'd been shown, knowing that Nokoru had caused himself great pain for his benefit. "You see, Monou-san," the blonde began after a moment. "All persocon as they are now have a basic programming they are not able to go against. Akira is, by programming, a pacifist. He cannot harm another person, be they human or persocon, even if he was in danger.

"Now, Suoh has no such program. If I had told him to hit you, he would have, if it had proved to be the most logical option. I asked Akira to do something he couldn't, and I believe I hurt him."

"Nokoru-san…"

"It's all right. Fortunately for me, Akira's programming doesn't let him be unhappy for very long. But this illustrates my point, I believe." He looked Fuuma straight in the eye. "I told you before, that no matter how much a persocon learns, it is still dictated by its base program. It will never grow beyond it.

"Your mother and her colleagues created a completely autonomous AI. Artificial intelligence in its purest sense. The program allows the computer to learn, experience and think, all on its own. It has no base program. It can take what it knows and makes its own conclusions. Because of this, it also has the ability to feel emotions. They managed to create a perfect replication of the human mind in machine form." The wistful smile seemed tinted with envy. "Truly an astonishing achievement."

Fuuma sat back in his chair, searching through memories of his mother that might have _hinted_ at that kind of achievement. He remembered his mother as quiet, gentle, and indulgent. That last had always driven his father crazy, though the pair rarely quarreled about anything. Their marriage had been peaceful, traditional... so normal it could've been a television show plot. Even as she was dying, his mother had never said anything. "And Mother…. did that?"

Nokoru nodded. "I'm a little surprised you never knew. I would have thought she would have been proud of that."

"She never said anything…" The comment, though well-meaning, sent a bitter sting of anger through his chest. He drained his coffee, thinking it was time this information session ended. His mind, already kilometers ahead of him, was trying to come up with a way to confront his father about this information. It was possible he hadn't known about his mother's accomplishments. For his father not to have known would have been completely impossible.

The blonde across the table watched his every movement, waiting until the waitress had taken Fuuma's cup before speaking. "There is one more thing, Monou-san."

"Oh?"

"Even though the AI project was never actually implemented, I have reason to believe that it was placed in one persocon. One that was never intended for sale."

Fuuma paused, turning to look at the boy and remembering the picture he'd shown him. He didn't want to believe that coincidence stretched that far, and just looked at Nokoru with a faintly curious expression.

"My family funded most of their research. The project was named for their test subject. It was called the "Kamui" project."

He closed his eyes, resting his hand on his forehead. It just figured. "Then Kamui…"

"It is the same persocon."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Fuuma didn't remember much of the train ride and walk home. One moment, he was walking out of the café, bidding farewell to Suoh and Akira, the next he stood at his own front door. Mechanically, he opened the door and slipped off his shoes. He could hear his father's paper rustling in the living room. Kotori's cheerful voice was nowhere to be heard. His sister was probably on another date with Sorata, and that didn't bother him.

"Fuuma?" His father called. "Is that you?"

Kyougo looked up as he stepped into the family room. "Kamui-kun is still upstairs," he said as he folded his paper, focusing in on a certain section. "I haven't seen him all morning."

"I need to ask you something, Father."

The paper descended to the tabletop, glasses following it. Fuuma watched his father's movements with a surprising amount of fury. His father had carried a secret with him for more than seventeen years, keeping it from his children even after their mother had died. Had denied them such an _important_ piece of her and never showed the strain. "Why didn't you tell us about Mother?"

The older man's eyes widened. Evidently, his question hadn't been what Kyougo had expected. Suddenly, the crow's feet around his eyes and the lines around his mouth seemed to deepen. His hair looked a little grayer around the edges. His father aged almost ten years in front of him.

"She asked me not to tell you."

The tatami mats did little to cushion Fuuma as he sat down heavily, the truth of Nokoru's information finally sinking in. He had been willing to believe the boy-genius had been toying with him – for whatever reason – or just misinformed until his father confirmed everything. "Why?"

With a sigh, Kyougo's expression softened into the wistful smile of nostalgia. "She was so adamant when she made me promise.

"I met your mother through an arranged marriage," the older man began. "Your grandparents were very traditional. Though she had every accolade she could hope for, they weren't satisfied until she found herself a husband and settled down."

Fuuma thought back to his grandparents with a slight wince. They had both been extremely stiff people, especially his grandmother. He and Kotori had joked more than once that their mother had to have been adopted. She had caught them once and his hands had ached for hours from all the cleaning they'd been assigned as punishment.

Kyougo caught the wince and chuckled softly, perhaps sharing the memory. "I knew your mother was a very talented woman, and she had been part of a close-knit team. I told her from the beginning that I didn't mind her continuing to work. But she wouldn't hear of it." He glanced at Fuuma. "She had a bit of her mother in her, which I see a lot of in you.

"She quit her job the week we were married and never spoke of it again. Once in a while, she would meet with her old teammates, but she always seemed to be very happy as a wife and mother."

Fuuma nodded. "I always thought so."

"Fuuma," his father's tone made him look up. Kyougo studied him critically. "No matter what you might think, your mother loved you a great deal. And your sister as well." He smiled, though it looked sadder the longer Fuuma watched it. "I believe she loved you both more than she ever loved me."

"Father…"

"It's all right," Kyougo said, waving a hand at him. "I made my peace with it long ago. I knew I wasn't her soul mate even before we got married. But I still loved your mother, and tried my hardest to take care of her."

Dumbstruck, Fuuma sat completely still. He had never expected his father – who'd always seemed a little too strict when he was growing up – to have been such a romantic. Nor had he believed he would have been told _any_ of this when he'd posed his question. After his mother's death, subjects regarding her had been understandably off-limits, and they had all moved on. For his father to be so open about things he hadn't even fathomed… clearly the years of secret keeping had been difficult for him.

"I know she was involved with something really important." He managed after several moments of silence.

Kyougo nodded. "It was right after you entered middle school," he said, his voice taking on a slight edge Fuuma didn't know how to interpret. His last year of middle school had been the year his mother had passed away. "One of her old colleagues approached her with a very important project. Your mother initially refused to sign on, but a few more meetings convinced her.

"She came to me to ask for my support, and I couldn't say no to her." Now his father's face had begun to tighten, his eyes began to shine in a way that made Fuuma's own throat close painfully. "She had given me almost fifteen years of her life, and two beautiful children. Who was I to try to keep her from what she had always wanted to do?

"So, she spent her mornings and evenings with us, and the rest of her time was devoted to her research. And I never saw her so happy."

Letting out a shaky breath, Kyougo turned away from his son, and no one had to tell Fuuma twice that the interview was finished. Almost ashamed at the reaction his ill-mannered question had brought, he escaped the living room as quickly as possible. He'd never known, never even _suspected_ his mother had lived such a complete double life. He'd always fancied himself at being in tune with his family, a responsible member and almost an adult… but really, he had been much too wrapped up in his own life to notice something so blatant.

His bedroom door creaked open and he entered to find Kamui smiling up at him.

Kamui.

The last thing his mother had worked on. The amazing piece of technology she'd worked herself to death to create.

He should have hated Kamui for taking his mother.

"Welcome back, Fuuma."

But he couldn't. Not when the little persocon's face lit up like that, and only for him. Crossing the bedroom floor, he hesitantly reached out and caught Kamui up in a fierce hug, his chest so painfully tight it could burst at any moment.

"Fuuma?" Came Kamui's soft voice. "What wrong? Does something hurt?"

_My heart._ "My head."

The persocon pulled away to feel his forehead. "It not hot… no fever."

Shaking off gesture, he brought Kamui closer to him. "No," he murmured. "No fever. It hurts… inside."

A pause as Kamui digested that. "Fuuma," he began again. "Why you hug Kamui?"

_Because my mother probably held you once, like this. _

Because you're here.

Because…

"I don't know… but, is it okay?"

"Is okay."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_This chapter was almost completely exposition and dialogue, so I apologize for that. The information had to be given, or else the plot couldn't move forward. But, there was some character development, and some bittersweet fluff. :D There will be one more chapter of exposition, probably chapter eighteen, but seventeen should be more action-oriented. Thanks for reading! _

**Next Chapter:** Two confessions, some advice, and a huge mistake. O-tanoshimi ni!


	17. Fuuma Makes a Choice

**Digital Revelation**

**Chapter 17 – Fuuma Makes a Choice**

Kamui woke up at dawn, his alarm clock rousing him from a charging session. The first thing he became aware of was the arm around his waist. Propping himself up slowly, he looked down into Fuuma's sleeping face. The worry creases in the boy's brow had smoothed out; he hadn't a clue what Fuuma had worried over last night, but if his owner was upset, that naturally passed to Kamui. Something in him hurt to see Fuuma like that. He wanted to take those bad feelings away. He wanted to protect Fuuma so he wouldn't have to feel that way.

He sat up more fully and froze as Fuuma shifted, sensing the change in position. His eyes were drawn to the boy's lips as they parted, releasing a soft sigh. Kamui tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear as he leaned down, wondering how those lips would feel against his own. Only inches away, his heart fluttered in his chest, his mind bringing up an image of a trapped moth in a jar.

"Kamui?"

The voice, not more than a murmur, killed that little moth in the jar. Horrified, he pulled back to see Fuuma watching him with an expression he'd never seen before. Covering his own mouth, he scrambled to get out of bed, stammering something about breakfast before bolting from the room.

At the foot of the stairs, he leaned against the wall and groaned. What had he been thinking! Fuuma was his owner, his _master_. There had to be rules against that sort of thing.

Not to mention that he wasn't even human.

And Fuuma had _seen_ what he'd almost done. As the heat rushed back to his cheeks at the memory, he wondered if that hadn't been the worst part. Whatever he felt for Fuuma could've been hidden in little gestures. He could've been happy being at the peripheral, being supportive and not rocking any boats. How was he going to fix this?

As he moved into the kitchen to begin the preparations for breakfast, a small voice in the back of his thoughts still wondered what it would have been like, to kiss the person he—

The person he loved.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Lunch hour found Fuuma at the furthest end of the soccer field, kicking a ball idly into the net. The kicks alternated from half-hearted passes to full-on drives that threatened to put a hole in the net. Sorata happened to approach on one of those shots, and he was rightfully intimidated. He'd been extra careful to avoid the older Monou sibling, though his first instinct had been – and still was – to punch him in the jaw for the grief he'd put his sister through. But Kotori had begged him not to, and so he'd kept his distance. Both members of the couple had. But Kotori was becoming concerned, and having watched him for a half day, Sorata could see why. Whatever worries they'd had over his preoccupation with the family persocon, it wasn't Fuuma's nature to be so sullen and withdrawn.

Sorata considered Fuuma to be a friend. And he'd do anything short of giving Kotori up to repair that friendship.

"Yo, Monou."

The other boy paused, his foot ready to strike the ball. "Arisugawa."

_It's an answer, at least._ Sorata risked coming closer. "What'cha up to?"

Fuuma slid him a fairly condescending glance, and Sorata forced a laugh. "I mean, besides imagining that ball's my face."

He watched Fuuma consider the ball under his foot, then tap it away. For the first time in days, he met the Kansai boy's eye. "It wasn't your face this time."

"Consider me relieved." He stuck his hand out to Fuuma, who simply raised an eyebrow. "She's your sister, and my girlfriend," Sorata declared with a wry smile. "I don't think either of us is going to bend on that. So... truce? I kinda miss my lunch partner."

More than a minute passed before Fuuma accepted the hand. "You hurt her in any way, Arisugawa," he said, his gaze burning into Sorata's. "And I'll be kicking something besides soccer balls."

Laughing, he pulled Fuuma in for a quick hug and a clap on the back. "Man, if I hurt her, I'll let you." He grinned at the other boy and felt a bit of his tension ebb as Fuuma grudgingly smiled back. "C'mon, it's freezing out here. Let's get some lunch. My treat to my future brother-in-law."

"_What?_"

Sorata sprinted back to the school, laughing all the way with Fuuma on his heels.

As they left the cafeteria, Sorata tossed Fuuma one of the cellophane-wrapped curry breads he'd bought. He let Fuuma choose the spot and was a bit surprised when he led them into an empty classroom. Sorata sat down on one of the tabletops and unwrapped his serving. "Something on your mind, Monou?"

Fuuma's lunch remained unopened on the desk as the other boy stood by the window and watched the students in the yard. "Are you sure you want to hear it?"

Frowning, Sorata bit into his bread. "'Course," he said around a mouthful of food. "Why wouldn't I?"

Fuuma shot him a wary glance. "It's persocon related."

Sorata felt his eye begin to develop a tic upon hearing that. Really, they _had_ to get the guy a girlfriend. This obsession with Kamui was becoming ridiculous. "I'm making all kinds of judgments, but I'm listening."

Rolling his eyes, Fuuma returned to the desk and sat on the back of the chair. "Do you think persocon can feel?"

Sorata swallowed his food before answering. "You mean real feelings? Nah, they're just working off a program." He rolled the wrapper between his hands, pitching the ball into the trashcan before starting in on his second piece. "I mean, I dig 'nee-chan, and she likes me back, but she's supposed to."

"Oh," Fuuma said, his expression pensive. "But what if they _could_? I mean, would it be okay to return it then?"

His bread made it halfway to his mouth before he put it down, just staring at him. "Monou, what are you talking about?"

Fuuma glanced away, focusing on the window with a heavy sigh. "I have no idea."

"You're not sayin' you're falling for Kamui, are you?" Sorata felt his face twist in a bit of a grimace. He knew his tone wasn't exactly accepting, but he had warned the other boy he was already making judgments. But he almost didn't want to hear the answer. He wondered if Kotori had any inkling how deeply messed up her brother was.

"…. I don't know."

Okay, now was a good time to start with a little panic. He moved to stand right in front of the other boy, blocking his view of the window. "Monou, he's a persocon. Beyond that, he's also a _guy_." The point didn't seem to make much of an impression on Fuuma. "I know he's kinda cute and girly-lookin', but since when do you swing that way?"

That got a reaction. Frowning, Fuuma stood, pacing a bit. "I don't… at least… I don't think so… Kamui's just… different." The other boy sighed heavily, the frustration clear. "And I think he's in love with me."

_Of all the... be nice Sora-chan. He's never owned a persocon before._ "'Course he is!" He exclaimed, throwing up his hands. Honestly, he was a bit relieved. If that was all it was, the confusion could be cleared up easily. "He's supposed to be; that's part of the programming."

A few emotions flickered across Fuuma's face, one of them looked a lot like hurt. "It is?"

Calming down, Sorata sat down, toying with his food. "Yeah. Makes it easier for them to serve and stuff. There were a bunch of studies done."

"Oh."

Hoping to reassure Fuuma, he smiled. "So yeah, it's okay that he's in love with you, 'cause you're his owner." A huge bite into his curry bread served to punctuate his words. "But you don't have to fall for him. You're allowed to tell him no."

The other boy still didn't seem convinced. "But, won't that hurt him?"

It was Sorata's turn to roll his eyes. What part of "no emotions" failed to get through to him? Though, in hindsight, Kamui did seem to have better feeling-imitators than most. To compromise, he shrugged. "Might, but he's your persocon. It's not like he's gonna flip out and kill you."

Had the discussion not been somewhat serious, the expression of pure surprise on his friend's face would've made Sorata laugh. As if the idea had never crossed his mind. He set his bread aside and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. "Basically, you just have to remember: there are things persocon can do, and there are things they can't do. Just like there are things people can and can't do. Everyone has their strengths, and their purposes."

Fuuma continued to stare at him, then raised an eyebrow. "That's remarkably profound, coming from you." He ducked the ball of plastic wrap that came flying his way. "Thanks for the advice, Arisugawa."

"No problem."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The day's final bell came as a release for the students and teachers; all across the school, sighs of relief and the scraping of chair feet on linoleum echoed from crowded classrooms. Fuuma filed his papers carefully into his schoolbag and stretched. "Arisugawa, you want to grab something to eat?"

The Kansai boy looked surprised and pleased by the invite. "Sure, sounds good." He slung his bag over his shoulder and briefly consulted with Arashi to see if he had any messages. "Want to swing by and pick up your persocon on the way?"

Now it was Fuuma's turn to be taken off guard by the offer. He'd had the distinct impression from their earlier conversation that Sorata didn't like Kamui, or at the very least, he didn't approve of the attention Fuuma gave him. But, given that they each had something to hold over the other's head, perhaps a truce was best. "Deal. I want to pick up a plant for Kotori or something anyway."

"Peace offering?"

Fuuma nodded. "Something like that."

Sorata thumped him on the back and headed out of the classroom. "She likes pink flowers."

"I _know_ that!"

The trip to Earth's Gifts passed quickly, helped along by banter and insult competitions. The pattern was easy to slip into, and Fuuma had missed it. At the moment, he was even grateful for the familiarity, as it kept him from thinking too closely about the bizarre quality of the last forty-eight hours. Beginning with a kidnapping and ending with an almost-kiss, he was starting to wonder if he wasn't experiencing an extremely realistic dream. These things didn't happen to normal people.

Though to tell the truth... he was wondering just how normal he was. Sorata's advice did little to make him forget the way Kamui had looked that morning, hovering over him in all his completely innocent sensuality. At the time, he had been sorely disappointed in himself for saying anything. Fortunately for them both, he had, putting them at a safe distance.

He needed to do something about it, once and for all. He just didn't know what.

"Welcome!"

Their arrival in the shop was greeted by a cheerful voice. Fuuma waved to Kusanagi-san, who immediately called for Kamui. The persocon crept out from the back room, looking like a child among a group of adult strangers; hopelessly shy. Kamui's discomfort only seemed to increase when Fuuma smiled at him; he looked down at the floor and refused to make any sort of eye contact. Fuuma pretended not to notice. "Hey, Kamui. Want to help me pick out something for Kotori?"

Eventually, Fuuma and Sorata chose a pot of bright pink amaryllis flowers without any help from the persocon. Neither boy chose to comment on Kamui's unusual mood; Fuuma because he knew exactly why, and Sorata because he didn't care. The subdued personality was undoubtedly a relief for the Kansai boy, Fuuma reflected. It certainly did make Kamui easier to ignore. Kusanagi bid them all a nice rest of their day, and they tromped out onto the busy sidewalk with Kotori's flowers in a bag. The two boys chatted on the way to the coffee shop, every so often glancing at the sky. Dark clouds were forming over the crisp winter blue. Looked like snow or rain, but both would've preferred snow. Halfway along the narrow street, Fuuma glanced back to find Kamui several feet behind them, staring at something in a store window. Retracing his steps, he came to stand beside the persocon. "What're you looking at?"

Kamui startled and shook his head. "Nothing special," he said hurriedly. "Kamui not want."

Fuuma glanced into the garland-bedecked window. The display showed a simple winter scene, with several couples skating on a pond. All of the little people – all human, all girl-boy couples – were holding hands. Kamui's word choice, even though he was sure the little persocon had been trying to lie to him, made Fuuma understand. The taller boy ruffled Kamui's hair awkwardly. "Maybe someday I'll have enough to get another persocon, and you can have a girlfriend. Okay?"

He regretted the attempt at comfort the instant Kamui looked at him. Not for the first time, he weighed Sorata's advice against what Nokoru told him and the idea that Kamui's feelings were simply a program was hard to swallow. Hurt and disbelief warred over the finely crafted features, both eventually losing to determination. "No!" Kamui stepped closer, ungloved fingers clenching the sleeve of Fuuma's coat. "Not okay! Kamui want only Fuuma.

"Kamui loves only Fuuma."

Fuuma felt the blood drain from his face. He'd suspected and Sorata had told him that it was possible, but to actually hear that kind of declaration was not something he could've prepared for. Only this morning had he gotten an inkling of what Kamui thought about him. He didn't know what to say.

It was supposed to be this way, Sorata had said. He didn't have to return it.

Fuuma looked down at Kamui and attempted a smile. "I know, Kamui." Let him down gently. He would be considerate of the persocon's feelings, program or no. "I like you very much, too. But I don't feel the same way."

The fingers uncurled from his coat as the hands dropped to their owners' side. Kamui stepped back from him, shaking his head. "Not true," he murmured quietly, face pinching as if he truly were in pain. "Fuuma make joke?"

"No," Fuuma replied gently. "I'm not."

The little persocon swayed on his feet and closed his eyes. Concerned he might fall, Fuuma slid an arm around his shoulders. At his touch, Kamui looked up at him with a cruel smile.

"I knew you'd make the wrong choice."


	18. Kamui and KAMUI

**Digital Revelation**

**Chapter 18 – Kamui and KAMUI**

"I don't feel the same way."

Why did that _hurt_ so much? Kamui's heart and breathing programs seemed to stop working when Fuuma turned him down.

"Fuuma make joke?"

His voice sounded so pitiful; his eyes started to sting, so he closed them.

_... come here._

"No, I'm not."

_Please._

That familiar voice, the one who had always protected him, murmured in his ear as the world fell away. When he opened his eyes again, his reflection stood before him, the embodiment of fury in shiny black and red clothes. "I told you he was like all the others."

Kamui recoiled from the anger, too hurt to argue, but /Kamui/ grabbed his wrist and pulled him into a hug. His other self held him tightly, smoothing his hair. "I told you everyone left us. Mama Saya and Mama Tooru. Auntie Tokiko didn't want us and neither does _he_."

He didn't remember those names, but his heart somehow did, the final hurt laid bare in a lifetime of abandonment. Kamui cried, clinging to the other version of himself. /Kamui/ lifted his chin with a gentle touch and kissed him. "I will take care of you," his reflection whispered against his lips. "I'm the only one who loves you."

Exhausted, Kamui nodded, resting his head against /Kamui's/ shoulder and closing his eyes. He fell asleep and surrendered what his reflection had been trying to take from him all along.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

A small section of Tokyo exploded.

From their perch no more than a kilometer away, Subaru and Seishirou watched plumes of thick black smoke wind their way into the sky.

The taller persocon turned to his partner. "How close would you say he is now, Subaru-kun?" Perfect teeth showed in his smile as he pressed a gloved hand against the other's pale cheek. "Perhaps you pitied him?"

"I was never certain of his location."

Seishirou stroked his thumb against Subaru's soft skin and chuckled. "You really are kind, Subaru-kun."

Green eyes turned away to watch the smoke. "We can't wait any longer."

The chuckle became a laugh. "Indeed."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Akira placed the tea set on the table and sat on the couch beside Suoh. Nokoru picked up his fine china cup and tried not to make any noise as the cup came away from the saucer. The elegantly dressed woman across from him sipped her tea and replaced the cup with perfect technique.

"The tea is excellent, Akira-kun."

The black-haired persocon sat up even straighter, delighted despite his nervousness. "Thank you, Rijichou!" he exclaimed, bowing. Nokoru hid an affectionate smile behind the rim of his cup.

The Chairwoman turned her attention to her son, changing the angle of her fan just slightly. "How are your studies faring, Nokoru-san?" She asked, her smile mischievous. "I was informed that you missed a day of classes this week."

Suoh shot him a look and the blonde heir to the CLAMP Campus gave his mother a "what can you do" sort of smile. "My studies are progressing well, Rijichou," he replied. "In fact, my most recent course of study ended most satisfactorily."

She nodded, the edges of her smile softening. "I am pleased to hear that."

Despite the outer poise, Nokoru's fingers itched to fidget; a surprise visit from the Chairwoman had left him completely unsure of where the conversation would go. He suspicions as to her motives, but with her, suspicions weren't good enough.

"I trust your friends were equally pleased with the information?"

The memory of Monou-san's distressed expression surfaced. "They were glad for my help."

Akira poured them both second cups, and their impromptu tea party continued in silence.

Midway through, Suoh touched his arm. "Kaichou," he said softly. "Arisugawa-san is calling."

Nokoru raised an eyebrow. "I'll have to speak to him later." His sense of unease doubled as Suoh shook his head warningly.

"He marked the call 'urgent'."

Nokoru glanced at his mother, who was as silent and still as a painting, no doubt watching and passing judgment on everything. Accepting nothing could be done about her presence, he nodded at Suoh to open the line. "Arisugawa-san?"

"Nokoru-san!!" Sorata sounded panicked, raising his voice over heavy background noise. "We've got a problem. I'm here with Monou and somethin's gone weird with Kamui."

"Where are you?"

"Over in Shibuya," Sorata replied. "He's gone all glowy and—"

The connection died as Suoh's eyes glazed over. A heartbeat later, Akira joined him in the frozen state.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Sorata cursed as Arashi fell over in his hands, useless as a doll. A split second later, Fuuma flew backward, knocking into him and they went sprawling to the ground. Wincing, Fuuma picked himself up, his hand pressed to his side.

"I'm never listening to you again," he ground out, hissing as a sharp pain lanced through him. "You said he wasn't going to try and kill me."

"He _shouldn't_ have!" Sorata retorted, tucking Arashi into his pocket. Both boys turned to see Kamui walking slowly toward them, eyes locked on Fuuma. The persocon who'd seemed so harmless, so happy and eager to please, now wore a predator's mask.

Around them, people ran for cover as light posts and electrical boxes burst, sending glass and sparks showering down. Every persocon in the street stood perfectly still, heedless of their owner's attempts to drag them off to safety. One by one, they turned in Kamui's direction.

They weren't frozen, Fuuma realized. They were waiting.

"I told him you wouldn't want him," Kamui said as he stalked forward. "I wish he had listened to me. We've had so many let us down; he may not remember, but I do." The manic grin seemed wholly out of touch with the words. "But I suppose he had to learn for himself." The persocon's expression turned slightly sad. "Poor thing.

"He wanted so much to be special to you."

Fuuma wanted to protest; Kamui _was_ special to him. The little persocon had become an essential part of his life without Fuuma really knowing how. Kamui was valuable, useful... and irreplaceable. His response to Kamui's confession seemed hasty now.

A sharp, high pitched buzzing sound pulled him out of his thoughts. Fuuma looked up to see Kamui almost within arms' reach of him and the small, outstretched hand glowed faintly.

"Kamui-chan _stop_!"

The persocon froze, jerking his head toward the new voice. Fuuma and Sorata scrambled back, putting as much distance as possible between themselves and Kamui. They ran toward the dark-haired, bespecled woman as she half ran, half limped in Kamui's direction, and Sorata caught her before she collapsed. One wire-framed lens was cracked and her clothes were filthy. "Magami-sensei!"

She gave them both a sad smile. "I'm so sorry, Monou-kun, Arisugawa-kun," she said and pushed herself up into a sitting position. "This is my fault."

Fuuma turned toward Kamui, who stood completely still in the road. His face was twisted into a snarl of fury as he curled both hands into fists. The glow around him strengthened until the glow leeched all the color from his features. One by one, the persocon on the street began to turn in their direction, the command moving from one side to the other, like a wave of empty eyes staring at them.

"Kamui-chan," Tokiko struggled to her knees. "Please, don't do this!" Kamui kept his furious glare on her, but seemed not to hear.

She tried to stand but Sorata kept her down. "Sensei, you're hurt!"

"We must stop him," she replied. "If they come, we'll lose him again."

"What do you mean 'lose him'?" Fuuma asked, watching Kamui out of the corner of his eye. The ground below them started to rumble and the persocon began to gather in a clump. Kamui raised one hand, pointed at them, and they sprang forward. Sorata and Fuuma scrambled to get to their feet, pulling Tokiko with them, despite her struggles. She broke away from them with a cry as a figure in white landed between them and the onslaught.

"Rin. Pyou. Tou. Sha. Kai. Jin. Retsu. Zai. Zen!" The chanting came rapid fire as the figure held out its interlocked hands. As the last word rang out, the persocon staggered. Smoke burst from the ears of some of them, and they collapsed. Around half of them remained standing, but did not advance.

Kamui's glow faltered for a moment, then shone brighter than before as he jumped backward, missing a handful of thin, white cards that sunk into the ground where he once stood. Fuuma followed Kamui's angry gaze up to a nearby rooftop, and saw a tall, dark figure readying another handful of the cards. The figure leaped down, coat billowing out behind him, and Kamui leaped backward to avoid him, launching into midair.

"Oh Kamui-chan..." Fuuma looked back down at Tokiko; she watched the pair move from roof to roof, eyes soft with worry. "I'm so sorry."

"What's going on?!" Sorata shouted, looking from Tokiko to the still-inert persocon and back. "Why're you roughed up? Who're these guys?!"

High above their heads, Kamui dodged another scattering of cards and launched himself at his opponent, barely missing him.

"Kamui-chan is my nephew," Tokiko said softly, never taking her eyes off the smaller persocon. "He was created by my sister and Saya-san." She swallowed hard. "Your mother, Monou-kun."

Sorata turned a slightly horrified look at Fuuma. "Your mother?" He asked, and Fuuma nodded a little, the ache in his chest becoming worse. "You knew about all that?"

"I just found out about it."

"Son of a--"

"Kamui!!" Fuuma cried as the persocon lost his balance after another dodge. He tumbled several stories before catching the edge of a building and pulling himself up on the ledge. The taller figure tried to throw true, but the little persocon evaded again. Fuuma barely heard Tokiko over the sound of his heart in his ears when she started to speak again.

"He was perfect. The Imonoyama zaibatsu had spared no expense for our research and we were able to do our best work; and he was the result. We were so proud of him," she said, her voice thick. "The government heard about our research and comissioned us to recreate the AI with a powerful wireless device." Her lip twisted. "They wanted soldiers. Machines that would be able to rationalize and adapt; the persocon they had didn't do that, you see. They had to follow their base programming."

Fuuma thought of Suoh and Akira. "No matter how much a persocon learns, it is still dictated by its base program. It will never grow beyond it," he said, echoing Nokoru's words.

"That's right, Monou-kun," Tokiko replied. "And no matter what we did, it was never right. The model we sent was too smart for what they wanted. They sent it back, but then Saya-san became sick..." a tear rolled down her cheek. "Tooru-neesan couldn't bear it, but they wanted us to continue. She took the program... and put it into Kamui-chan... and then killed herself." Tokiko turned to Fuuma and looked at him for the first time, her brown eyes full of tears. "Tooru-neesan loved Saya-san too much to be without her."

_"I knew I wasn't her soul mate even before we got married."_

"Mother..."

Tokiko quickly turned her attention back to the battle above them. The cat-and-mouse game continued. "I tried to continue the work, but it was too much for one person. I wouldn't let the government take Kamui from us; they had taken everything else." She wiped her cheeks. "I erased Kamui-chan's memories and threw him away. I thought he'd been destroyed until I saw him with you, Monou-kun."

"Look out." The figure in white backed up quickly as Kamui plummeted, hitting the ground hard enough to leave an imprint. Fuuma shouted the persocon's name and ran to him, kneeling beside the prone form. "Kamui..." One of the cards, a piece of plastic covered in metallic lines, lay on Kamui's chest. The wide purple eyes had glassed over and no amount of calling made Kamui respond. The impact had split the casing on the side of his head, showing the circuits and wires inside. Fuuma touched the split, not quite believing it was real. He had known all along Kamui wasn't human, but the sight drove that home. But Kamui's smile, his adorable curiosity, his devotion... his love for Fuuma... had all been real.

The man who had been fighting with Kamui touched down beside the white-clad persocon. "It's done, Subaru-kun."

Subaru closed his eyes and nodded, a pained expression crossing over his face. Fuuma watched the play of emotion and felt a surge of fury. Those two were like Kamui. They were far too human not to be the same kind of persocon. The taller persocon stepped forward, and Fuuma glared at him.

"You're not taking him."

The persocon raised an eyebrow. "I'm afraid we have instructions that say otherwise."

Subaru stepped up beside the persocon. "He is a danger to those around him," he told Fuuma softly. "Seishirou-san and I must take him back with us to prevent him from ever doing harm again." He shook his head. "I'm sorry we have to do this."

"The program has been destroyed," the taller persocon, Seishirou, said and that last crack sent a pain through Fuuma's heart. The feeling was worse than when he had discovered Yuzuriha's secret. It was an awful, lonely pain that felt like...

Like when his mother had died.

A hand on his shoulder pulled him back and up to his feet. "Come on, Monou," Sorata said softly; when Fuuma looked at him, his expression held none of the usual exasperation or recrimination. It seemed he understood, finally, what was going on. Numbly, Fuuma stood and backed away. Seishirou took Kamui's lifeless body in his arms while Subaru apologized again, then both persocon leaped up to the rooftops, and out of sight.

---------------------------

_**Next:** Epilogue _

_Look at this, almost at the end. I'll include a more lengthy author's note after the epilogue. Until then, I'll just say that I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and if you're still reading after all this time, **thank you** for your patience._


	19. Epilogue

**Digital Revelation**

**Epilogue**

December passed, winter moved into spring. Despite the terrifying computer glitches that had nearly shut Tokyo down, its citizens bought them, used them and became attached to them. In short, the world had returned to normal after a hectic winter.

Monou Kotori walked along a tree-lined street on her way home from school; the sakura were just hinting at flowering. In another week or so, the whole city would be bedecked with pink petals and picnics. She was looking forward to going to a blossom viewing party with Sorata.

Turning a corner, she waved to a neighbor before stepping beneath the Togakushi Shrine's gate. She called her hellos as she slipped off her shoes, and smiled to hear three voices call back. Kotori crossed into the living room and immediately dropped down beside Sorata and hugged him. Her father smiled behind his newspaper. Even little Arashi's dour expression softened. They had tried to be reserved when they'd started dating; they wanted to appear mature and worthy of parental (and brotherly) approval. But Arisugawa Sorata was anything but reserved, and after two or three dinners at the Monou house, he'd given up the charade entirely. Father didn't seem to mind at all.

Kotori looked around the room. "Where is oniichan?"

Father gestured to the kitchen and Kotori hid a sigh. Sorata patted her shoulder and she excused herself.

Fuuma glanced up from his homework as she walked in and smiled. "How was school?"

"It was all right," she replied with a big smile. "The teacher gave us two chapters of _Genji_ to read though." She busied herself getting tea for everyone. She found the pot and cups on the drying rack near the sink; Father must have washed everything after breakfast. The family had almost forgotten they'd owned such a thing. Kamui had been so good about keeping the kitchen spotless.

They had fallen back into their usual roles, eventually, after he was gone. Kotori didn't miss Kamui because he had done the dishes and cooked and kept the house clean. The three of them had managed well enough before the luxury of a housekeeper; they managed well enough without one. And Sorata sometimes helped her with her chores on Saturdays so they could go catch a movie.

Kotori missed Kamui because of what the loss had done to her brother.

Outside the house, Fuuma was the same as he'd ever been; responsible, polite, hardworking and considerate. If anything, he did more now, with nothing to distract him. But left to himself, he withdrew. Kotori, Sorata and Father had gotten used to not having his company unless they asked for it.

"I remember reading that." Fuuma said as he looked back down at his math problems. "Didn't like it much."

The kettle boiled on the range and Kotori spooned tea leaves into the ceramic pot. "The grammar is so haaaaard." She deliberately whined to get a reaction, a laugh, anything. But Fuuma appeared not to hear as he jotted down numbers on a scrap paper. Her brother's presence in a room did not always guarantee participation.

And all they could do was wait for him to stop grieving.

The kettle started to whistle just as a knock sounded on the front door. Kotori turned off the flame and hurried to answer the door; she got there just before Sorata did.

"Good evening, Monou-san, Sorata-san."

Sorata's face broke into a huge grin. "Hey, Nokoru-san!" He stepped back so Kotori could invite the boy in. "Long time no see!"

Nokoru slipped off his loafers and bowed to them both, offering Kotori a cake box. The box, ribbon and gold embossed logo all looked very expensive. "Thank you, Imonoyama-san," she breathed, a bit embarrassed to have such an important guest with the house in less than perfect shape. "I was just about to begin dinner, would you like to join us?"

The blond boy's fan showed the characters for "humbly decline". "I'm sorry, I can't stay long. He gestured behind him. A limousine was parked in front of the gate, and to Kotori's mortification, the neighbors had come over to take a look. "I have a few appointments on campus tonight," Nokoru continued. "But I had some news I wanted to deliver in person." He smiled, all boyish innocence and charm. Kotori had only met the boy genius once before, but she had liked him immediately. Sorata often teased her at how easily Nokoru made her blush with his genteel manner.

"Is your brother here, Monou-san?"

"Nokoru-san?" Fuuma's voice answered him before Kotori had a chance. The older Monou sibling came to stand beside her. "Haven't seen you in a while." Kotori saw the wariness in her brother's eyes as he looked their guest over. After hearing the whole story, she knew Fuuma and Nokoru weren't friends, but to lose what camaraderie they _had_ had was unfortunate.

Nokoru's fan now read "happy to see you!", the boy's blue eyes sparkled over the edge of the fan before it disappeared. "It's been a busy few months, Monou-san." He clasped his hands behind his back. "Suoh and Akira both ask after you."

"I'm fine, thank you."

Sorata snorted loudly. Kotori poked him as Fuuma rolled his eyes. Nokoru didn't miss any of it, but he was clearly too well mannered to say anything. "They'll be very happy to hear that," the boy replied smoothly. "They would have come with me, but they need a chance to recharge. They've been sorting through data for months now."

Kotori tilted her head to the side. "Data?" Nokoru nodded, his smile as sweet as ever, but he watched Fuuma like a hawk. "What kind of data, Imonoyama-san?"

She couldn't have put a finger on what changed in the boy's smile, but it was decidedly more cunning. "The Imonoyama zaibatsu received a considerable amount of data from the government a few months ago; all copies, of course but nonetheless it was very interesting.

"Subaru-san also sends his regards, Monou-san."

Kotori gasped at the name, looking to her brother, who had paled considerably. "You don't mean.."

Nokoru's eyes danced and by the way he fidgeted, it seemed he was almost ready to do the same. "It took some negotiating to get what was requested, naturally." The boy stepped back and pushed the door open again.

"But I believed it was worth it."

Kotori saw the tousled brown hair and large violet eyes and both hands flew to her mouth.

"Kamui-chan!"

The persocon stepped into the foyer, looking down at the floor shyly. Kotori could barely see her brother's stricken expression through the tears flooding her eyes.

"We made a few modifications to his appearance," Nokoru said softly, and Kotori saw the huge white ears had been replaced with subtler, more human-looking ones. "But he has all his memories, Monou-san."

Fuuma reached out with a shaking hand to touch the familiar, perfect face. "Kamui?"

Kamui looked up slowly, and smiled as he pressed a hand over Fuuma's. "Hello, Fuuma.

"I've missed you."

**The End**

---------------

_And so ends four years of work, procrastination, tweaking and patience. _

_I want to thank everyone who's stayed with me while I've written this fic. Your reviews have come in far more regularly than my chapters have come out, and I'm grateful to have kept your attention for this long. I started Chapter 18 with the intention of just getting the fic finished; I've gone through long periods of apathy with this story, and I finally just decided "okay, fine, I'll just give them anything and be done with it." As I wrote the Epilogue, I started to remember why I liked this fic so much, and so now finishing it is much more happy and satisfying. I apologize for the sometimes bumpy characterization, plot holes and places I could've worked harder. _

_But all that aside, I hope you all like the ending, and again, thank you for reading. _


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